Fritz in America 



/^^ V A DRAMA 



In Three Acts and Three Scenes, 



By a. p. LAUGHLIX. 



With Stage Directions, Characters, Costumes, Etc. 



Copyrighted by the Author May 13, 1887 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 



DECATUR, ALA. 

VALLEY PRESS. 

1887. 



it 



V' 



N> 



Fritz in America. 



A DRAMA 



In Three Acts and Three Scenes. 



By A^lr LAUGHLm. 

With Stage Directions, Characters, Costumes, Etc. 



Copyrighted by the Author May 13, 1887. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. .^ '^q?^RIGh^^^ 

(■' JUi^ 15 ]BC. 

Valley Print, Decatur, Ala. y f 



FRITZ— Gernuiu American, vender of fruits and flowers. 

COL. KOiSTAXD BRANCH— Ex-Confederate officer. 

TOM GALBRAITH— Heir to Galbraith Hall- nephew to Col. Branch. 

MA.T. PHILIP Mc(aiEG()R— Major in Federal army. 

HKRR GEOPPER— GVrnian Gentleman. 

FLYBURGF^R— Dude-atteiidant to Herr Geopper. 

FIRST OFFICER. 

SECOND OFFK^ER. 

PAUL — Colored servant to Branch, 

GABRIAL.— Colored Servant. • 

JONES— Squire. 

TOMMY— Little son of Tom Galbraith and Cleo. 

CLEOPATRA— Sui)p()sed Oi^toroon, in love with Col. Branch ; subse- 

(juently wife of 'I'om Galbraitli. 
ALLIF]— Daughter of Col. Branch, wife of Maj. McGregor. 
HARRIET SIMxMONS— Rich old maid. 
TRACY — Daughter of IMcGregor and Allie, stolen in infancy by Branch 

and reared by Fritz and Cleo, finally Fritz'a wife. 
KATIM NE— German servant. 
MAJn' LUCY— Colored servant. 



COSTUMES. 

Fritz — Act, I. — Short coat of Federal private soldier, with remainder 
of citizens clothes, knee pants. Act II. Same as Act I, without soldier 
coat. Act HI. At first similar to act II. As Herr Geopper, elegant 
gentlemanjb attire of present day ; as Katrine, mother hubbard of coarse 
material. Finally black dress suit with knee pants and black stockings. 

Branch. — Act I. Colonel's Suit of Confederate grey. Act II. Citizen's 
suit with black cnpe. Act III. Black suit with high-topped boots, with 
spurs. 

(tALBRAIth. — C'itizen's attire, to suit the times. 

McGHECiOR.— Suit of Federal Major. * 

Fly BiTRGER.— Rank dude attire. 

Offlcer^s. — Blue, with brass buttons. 

Jones, Pattl, Gabriel.— Plain clothing. 

Tommy.— ('hild's suit of present day. 

Cleo.— Act I. Red dress with short* full skirt, black bodice and shoul- 
derstraps. Act II. Similar to Act I. Act III. Elegant house dress of 
present day. 

Allie. — Act I. Blue silk with lace overdress. Act II. Ragged gar- 
ments of coarse material. Act III. Ragged outer dress, and traveling 
dress of to-day. 

Harriett Simmons.— Act I. Full, large- figured silk, festooned, oyer 
balm^ral skirt over large hoops. White waist, short cut-away sack with 
long, flowing sleeves over lace undersleeves, high scoop bonnet. Act 
II. Evening dress. 

TRAC'Y.--Act. I. Infant's dress. Act II. Child's dress with bare arms 
and neck. Act III. As a miss of to-day. 

Mary' Lucy.— Plain girl's dress. 



pRITZ IN y\^MERICA. 



ACT I, 

ScP2NE — La vvii -^- Large hollow tree in center. Enters Cleopatra, an 
Octoroon. 

C. Not hero? Not here? Surely it can't be much before the 
time. I watched the clock and gave myself scarce fifteen minutes 
time to get here. But (laughs) the wings of my most ardent love 
did bear me cfn most swiftly. Why. really 1 am quite out of breath. 
Oh, Eostand Branch, how I do love you! love you! love you! 
Ah mo ! how that lacks of expressing what I feel for my most 
grand of sweet- hearts. 

There's magic in the slightest glance 

That I may gain from thee, 
I'm bound in an ecstatic trance 

If you but smile on me. 

Ah me ! how vain the warning of my dear dead mother not to 
love a white man. " Cleo," said she. " Cleo let me wa'n you, de 
day you lows yo'self to lub a white man, dat day you signs and 
seals yo' doom. How does I know? " says she. " Lor now honey, 
how I does know. Good Masta what I done suffered at de hands 



ob yo' dead daddy. Oh, no chile, don't ask me how I knows ; don't 
ask me nuffin. Didn't he come to me wid his Bmiles and his sweet- 
ful talk and be so sof wid me, and tell me how he lub me and how 
purty I war, and how he'd be so true to me and dis and dat, and 
den bress de Lor honey 'fo' you could walk didn't he come to me 
drunk and 'bukfme and den worse dan all didn't he go and marry 
Miss Maria and den tell me to go marry some nigga whats my 
equals.Lor chile," says she, •' le' me tell you, 'fo' God don't 3^ou be 
'preciatin' ob dese white men. You lub some nice colo'd man whats 
not ashamed to marry wid ye." But angel mother, sweet as you 
were ignorant, how could I help but love my Eostand. Love him 
yes and he loves me, and he shall marry me. But deary me, Cleo, 
how you rare? (Looks about.) Not coming yet? I'll chide my 
tardy lover. I can't have missed the time he said, but I'll read 
again his note and see. (Reads) — 

"My Precious Little Sweet-heakt — (Say he don't love me)— Please 
be sure to meet me at the old hollow tree in the tnorning at six o'clock, 
— promptly at six. Come alone, of course. I have somethmg of im- 
portance to say to you, a proposition to make, if you please — (hear 
that) — that will try your love for me. It is useless for me to say : do not 
disappoint me. 

Yours as ever and forever, 

Rostand Branch." 

Disappoint you Rostand, my beloved, never, never. But I fear 
unless he comes I'll be the disappointed party. (Looks about). 
Ah! he comes. Grracious me! sit still my heart. (Seems embar- 
rassed.) What shall I do? What shall I say? Shall I be de- 
demonstrative and rush into his arms? or shall I be dignified and 
say: My lord is a laggard in love to-night. Most likely I shall 
do neither. (Looks again.) Why, he's carrying something — a 
basket — what can it be ? It must be something very particular or 
he'd have it carried. Dear me, I'm so impatient. Oh, I think I'll 
hide in this hollow tree and fool him. (Hides in the tree.) 

(Branch enters and looks around.) 

B. Why, my angel don't seem to fly to-day. 

C. (Jumping out.) Don't she, ' ha, ha, ha. (Laughs heartily.) 

B. (Kissing her.) Whist — whist. Don't laugh so boister- 
ously, Honey, you'll wake the baby. 

C. Ha, ha; what have you got in that basket. (Tries to see.) 

B. No, no, darling, you shall know by ai\d by ; there's some- 
thing weighty there. 

C. (Taking basket.) Let me see — not so very. Pray what is 

B. (Takes basket and puts it on the ground.) What is it? 



Something of great moment. I mean, Cleo, something pertaining 
to my business here with you. Something 1 trust you will not 
shrink from. 

0. What, the proposition ? No, indeed. Shrink from a prop- 
osition of a gentleman? Ha, ha; that's not what ladies are said 
to do. But really a proposition that takes a basket to contain it 
seems quite ominous. But how have you been, my love, since last 
we met? it seems so long. 

B. Well, I thank you, physically. But Cleo, dear, I have been 
most sick at heart, I assure you. I assure you, my dear, most sick 
at heart. 

C. Oh, my own dear what can it be, what can it be? Please 
let me know, do tell me quick. I am sure no one will sympathise 
with you as your own CI o. Come, my love, what can so trouble 
you^^most precious heart? 

B. (Taking her hands and placing her arms about his neck 
and taking her face in his hands.) Cleo, it is something dreadful 
and you, and you alone can help me. You can if you will, and if 
you will I'll promise anything. 

C Gracious, me! What can it be? As old Miss used to say, 
you've quite unstrung my netrves; but really Colonel aren't you 
going to propose? (Laughs.) 

B. Come, Cleo, do be serious a little while. Please have done 
with nonsense, I have. Pray would you have me propose to you 
every time we meet? 

C. I like to have j^ou tell me how you love me. But tell rue, 
what are your troubles, and what can I do to alleviate them? 

B. You remember, Cleo, more than a year ago when the Yan- 
kees were here, you know they camped in my lawn — the General 
had his headquarters in my house. 

C. Yes, I remember distinctly — what handsome men they 
were. 

B. Hush, please, Cleo. Well, among the General's staff was a 
young officer by the name of McGregor — Philip McGreger. 
0. Yes; handsome, wasn't he? 

B. Oh, yes; very good looking — but — 

C. And Miss Allio fell in luve with him! Oh, how delightful! 
how romantic! 

B. Do be quiet, Cleo. 

C. Well, dear me, it's just like a novel — a love affair between a 
Southern girl and a Yankee soldier; ha, ha. 

B. This is nothing to be amused at, Cleo. It's much too serions 
an affair. But you have anticipated rightly. Poor, dear Allie 
was so young. That Yankee rascal in my absence, with his wily 



arts, won the aiFections of my daughter, my daughter; think 
Cleo. When I returned and learned of this dreadful affair,! could 
have killed the dog. But that is nothing to what followed. I for- 
bade my daughter's seeing him again. In a short time the troops 
were moved from here, and I though , of course, now that this in- 
convenient Yankee was out of her sight, Allie would soon forget 
him. But alas! alas! under the pretense of visiting her aunt she 
went to Baltimore, and there according to pre-arrangements, met 
this Yankee McGregor again, and would you believe it Cleo, she 
married him. Yes, she married him. 

C. She did ! oh dear me how delightfully romantic. Do pray 
go on. Colonel, what did they do next? 

B. If you'll give me the opportunity I'll tell you. Soon after 
she married she wrote to me that as the war had progressed to 
such an exten^. that traveling was attended with a good deal of 
danger, she would remain and attend school. Thinking her safe 
with her aunt I readily concurred with her and permitted her to 
remain, especially as I was away from home a great deal, and she 
would thus be left so much alone here. 

C. And all this time while everybody has been thinking her 
away at school she has been playing the romantic girl and living 
in all the bliss of a clandestined marriage. Dear me, and is that 
the dreadful thing that troubles you? I am sure that is nothing 
to worry about. 

B. What Cleo! Nothing! nothing! I, a Southern gentleman 
and my daughter runs off and marries a Yankee soldier, and I not 
worry ! 

C. Yes; but then he was so handsome she couldn't help but 
love him, and she was so spunky and independent; I wouldn't have 
thought it of little Allie. Why, Colonel,!you ought to be proud of 
her. 

B. Are you mad, Cleo! are you mad ! that you talk to me thus 
indifferently about such a calamity? 

C. Oh, dear me, Colonel. The thing is just splendid. Just 
like a lovely story. But where are they now? 

B. Listen: Allie's marriage is a secret here and it must remain 
such, and what I ask of you is to help me keep it so. 

G. Surely I will, but how better than to say nothing about it. 
As mammy used to say, " The good book says a wise head totes a 
still tongue." 

B. Quite true, Cleo. But there is sometimes stronger evidence 
than that given by the word of mouth. And there is stronger 
proof of this unfortunate marriage than that which might be 
ignored as hearsay. The thing is much worse than you imagine: 



After the surrender, Allie not coming home, I went after her, and 
horror of horrors, I found her sick in a Catholic hospital with a 
right young baby, perfectly penniless, and her husband nowhere 
to be found. While she was there I did everything I could to in- 
duce her to leave the child in an orphan asylum, as it was my 
intention from the first to suppress thp matter. But she actually 
came near dying. And the physicians assured me that it would 
either cause her death or the loss of her mind to take the 'child 
away. On the way home we stopped in the mountains where we 
were not acquainted. The mountain air strengthened Allie, but 
her baby grew more delicate, and finally, by stratagem I convinced 
her the child died, and to-day she thinks it buried at Blue Moun- 
tain Home. But the baby did not die, and being unable to conceal 
it there, I secured the service of a negro to bring it on, he travel- 
ing on the same train with us. On arriving here,! thought first, of 
course of you, and Cleo, darling, there it is in that basket. I want 
you to help me make away with it. 

C. In that basket! the baby? You frighten me. Hot^; stupid 
of me not to have thought it at first. But oh. Colonel Branch, I 
can't, I can't; dear me, think how unjust to poor Miss Allie. "Poor, 
poor Miss Allie — and oh hovv^ wicked! I can't, I can't. 

B. Don't be foolish, Cleo. Although I'd a great deal rather, 
its not necessary to kill it. 

C. (Screams.) Don't speak to me of such a thing ! I won't 
hear it! la murderess! Oh dear, (cries) oh dear. How dare you 
ask me to do sucli a thing. Who am 1, to be so misused ! 

B. Who indeed ! no one to dare to question me as to my actions 
or motives I can assure you. By George, indeed, and who am I to 
be thus addrossed by a — well, if it weren't that I do love you,. 
Cleo, I'd take a stick and ware you out. That I would, that I 
would you little fool. 

C. (Still crying.) But indeed I- cannot, I cannot, I cannot. 

B. Cleo, this seeming conscientiousness of yours quite sur2:>ri8es 
me. It's scarcely worth your while to seem so just. If I remem- 
ber rightly Allie's mother dealt not so kindly with you. Although, 
ha, ha, I am compelled to own she did not kill you. 

C. i^o, through your mean instigation she sold from me my 
mother and made life without her, than death ten thousand times 
more wretched. 

B. Well, Cleo, if Allie's mother treated you so badly, there's 
her grand-child and Allie's her daughter, why not be revenged 
on them. 

C. No, Colonel Branch, I am still too young to know anything 
of revenge. At least to reveng the guilty on the innocent. 



B. Well, then Cleo, if you wont do it because 3'ou hate Allie's 
mother do it because 3'ou love her father. 

G. I won't. I won't, I won't. (Stamps her foot.) How dare 
you insist in repeating that obnoxious proposition to me. 

B. Easy enough, my darling. Listen, that baby is between 
yon and me ; must it always be so and you and I remain apart, or 
will you remove it from between us that we may live together? 

C. Col. Eostand Branch, are you heartless, and must I needs in 
hell abide that I may live with you ! Ah yes, 1 see, I know, for 
devil, indeed, art thou. 

B» You think you're mighty smart; but its just as I tell you, 
unless you make off with that child I'll know no more of you. 

C. Ah, well, said my mammy, Cleo the day you learn your- 
self to love a white man that day you sign and seal your doom. 
Hostand Branch, do you mean this? 

B. Mean it, of course I mean it, and more, not only will I not 
know you but no one else will want to know you. 

C. I might have known, I might have known. God forgive 
me, I'll lend myself to the devil. Well, and if I do what then ? 

B. Said I not I'd promise you anj'tlnng? 

C. Yes, but you have always promised without this dreadful 
thing. Am I still to expect nothing but promises? 

B. Cleo, I'll do anything, anything you ask if you'll but save 
me from this disgrace. 

C. Suppose I ask what may seem a greater disgrace? 

B. There can be none — nothing that I would so object to. 
For Cleo you know it has always been intended since the death of 
Judge Galbraith that Tom and Allie should marry, and if I can 
sink this affair with the yankee officer it may yet not be too late. 
Let's hear it Cleo, and it shall be granted, (she hesitates) out with 
it gal — 'even to the half of my kingdom.' 

C. Make no rash promises. Is it worse for a southern lady to 
marry a yankee than for a southern gentleman to marry a colored 
woman? 

B. What can you mean, Cleo? 

C. I mean just this: If I do this dreadful thing will yoil mar- 
ry me? 

B. You can't mean it ! 

C. But I do. I do mean it. I'll have no middle ground. The 
only way you made me entertain a thought of this wicked thing 
was to threaten to leave me entirely. Now the only way you can 
make me consent to c(^mit it is to consent to be with me entirely. 

B. But, Cleo, why can't we live on in the old wa^'. You al- 
ways seemed to be happy enough and contented. 



C. But I ain tired of the old way. Why not let Allie and 
McGrregor live on in the way they expected to. They were doubt- 
less hapi^y and contented. Come, we may be interrupted. Its 
right now or never. What do you say? 

B. But Cleo you know I love you more than any other woman, 
what more can you ask ? 

C. You know what more I ask. Shall it be yankee son or 
darkey wife? (Fritz is heard in the distance warbling and crying 
apples for sale) There is Fritz coming, what do you say? He'll 
soon be here and I'll be off and you'll be left with the baby to hold. 

B. Great heavens, Cleo! how can you exact so muc!:i ! (Fritz 
is heard nearer.) 

C. What do you say? 

B. I promise you faithfully Cleo, I'll never marry any one 
efee. 

C. I am done with promises. Sware it! 

B. (Holding up his right hand) By all the Gods of heaven, 
Cleo, I sware I'll never marry any one but you. 

C. That is still not sufficient. Sware that you will marry me. 

B. Cleo, Cleo, you're unjust. (Frit^r again nearer.) 

C. Be it so, there's your" baby. (Starts to go and Fritz is 
heard again.) 

B. Cleo, have mercy ! 

C. Sware that you will marry me. 

B. I sware ! 

C. You sware what? 

B. I sware I'll marry you. 

C. (Takes bible from her bosom.) That is not sufficient, here 
kiss this Bible and say, Cleopatra, by all the Gods of heaven I 
sware I'll marry you. So help me God. 

B. (Takes bible and tremblingly obeys.) Cleopatra by all the 
Gods of heaven I sware I'll marry you, so help me God. 

C. (Hiding basket m tree) There it's safe until Fritz passes. 
Why don't the baby cry? 

B. Its drugged, but it may wake by tind by. Be careful about 
thedutchman. Good-bye, I must be off. 

C. Good-bye, Col. Branch. (She follows him off the stage and 
Fritz enters with apples for sale.) 

F. A-apples ! a-apples — fine apples ! fine apples ! — apples, ap- 
ples — fine maiden-blush apples. Veil, I youst dinks dot dutch- 
man could been careful mit his own self. I tole you vot kind of 
funny bishness vas dot. Dot man vash shoore mit ter bible. By 
Got in himmel he would marry mit dot gal^ tBere vas somedings 
vot I youst put down. I vitnish dot. (Cries his apples and effects 



not to see (Jleo as she enters) "IBeen keerful about dot Dutchy, ht 
3'oust better as been keerful of dot neegar. 

C. (Striking him on the back) What niggar? 

F. Dot vas you vot vas a neegar ! 

C. You lie, I'm not a niggar ! 

F. Yell vot vas you den, of you vasn't a neegar? 

C. I am an octaroon. 

F. A shpittoon ! Yell I don't know of a neegar vas vorser as a 
shpittoon. 

C. I didn't say a spittoon, I said an octaroon. 

F. Yell dot vas a neegar dot vas called a coon. 

C. I said an octaroon. 

F. Yot kind of a mushroom vas dot? 

C. Oil you're a fool, Fritz. 

F. (Walking up and standing beside her) Yel den you vas de 
next ding to a fool, (both laugh) 3utsay, Cleo, who vas dot vellew? 

C. Who? 

F. Dot fellow dot tole you to search dot Dutchman, vot vas me. 

C. Oh, he is a ver}^ nice gentleman. He did not tell me to 
search you. 

F. Yell, but vot vas his name? 

C. Branch. 

F. YhaAV, yhaw, dot vas a long branch. 

C. (Aside) If I must, I must. The die is cast, but dear, oh, 
dear, I can't destroy- that baby. Oh, I have it, I'll get it off on to 
Fritz. (Aloud) Say Fritz, come sit down on this logand lets talk. I 
iiavn't seen 3'ou since we helped those soldiers through that night. 
Didn't we do that slick? 

F. Yah, but one of dem yankee soldiers dun me a yankee trick. 
He to!d me vould I sold him by liquor and ven I told him I vould 
he trunk it up and haunt me back de bottle and say he gib me dot 
for de viskey, ven I tole him he did not bargain for de bottle, dot 
it vas mine already, den he said he did not want de bottle; den I 
tole him he pay me for de liquor ven he say he gib me de bottle 
for de viskey. I say I not verstant some bishness like dot. It 
sheems dot vay, but dot vas queer dot Isold mine viskey and don't 
got nodings, dot I don't vas got already. 

C. Oh well, \'ou ought to be glad he had the bust head from 
■drinking it instead of you. Come sit down on this log' and lets 
talk. 

F. I don't care, it vas pad viskey anyhow. 

C. (Aside) I'll make him serve my purpose, (aloud) Say, Fritz; 
do jou know — did you ever think how friendless I am. 

F. (Aside) I guess she vants to marry. (Aloud) Oh now, Cleo 



vas frientless f 

C. Yes, Fritz, entirely friendless. I am all, all alone. 

F. Vere vas I, of I don't been mit you ? Vas I been nodings? 

C. You did't understand me Fritz. You are sitting here with 
me now, but you wont be here long and you'Jl go away and leave 
me, and I must go home to my cottage alone — all alone — and no 
one there to keep me company. 

F. (Aside) Now I know she vants to marry, (aloud) I'll keep 
you company Grleo. 

C. You don't know what you say, Fritz. When you found 
your customers leaving you because you kept my company, then 
you'd see your mistake and leave me. 

F. I wouldn't, Gleo, I wouldn't. 

C. You called me a negro just now, and perhaps I am, I hardly 
know what I am. 1 feel like the bat in the fable, I am neither 
beast nor bird. 

F. You vasyousta vomen, dots vot you vas. 

C. Yes, but I am so friendless, I have no one to love. I never 
had any brothers and sisters. My mother is dead and my father 
.would not own me and — and — oh dear, oh dear, (cries.) 

F. (Pittyingly) Oh dot vas too j)ad, Gleo, don't you do dat 
now, I love you. 

C. (Still crying) No .you don't, no one loves me. 

F. (Boo, boo, cries) You youst most bust my heart, Gleo. (cries 
loudly) 

C. Fritz did you say you would be my friend? 

F. Yes, boo-hoo, ye-yo-yes. 

C. A very good devoted friend. 

F. (Aside) I vonders if I youst got to shoore I vill marry her 
too. (aloud) Yes, a very devoted friend. 

C. Oh I am so glad — I am so happy. 

F. (Chuckles her under the chin) Ilootsy, kootsy, pootsy, pf 
you vas happy den I vas happy, den ve vas a douple happy, a 
great big happy, (laughvs) 

C. Well then, Fritz, if we are to be devoted friends lets make 
a contract and sign it with our blood. 

F. Ten vould ve been plood km ? 

C. I don't know — maybe. 

F. Gleo I youst ruther as been friends or shoeethearts. 

C. All right, Fritz, any way, (takes pencil and a blank book 
from her pocket ) will you write it or shall I ? 

F. You, GJeo, my writing don't vas been enough good. 

C. All right here goes then, (writes and reads aloud) Thie-is- 
to-certify-that-I'Fritz — What is your name anyhow, Fritz? 



10 

r. Yot vas my name? You know vot vas my name. It vas 
youst the same. It vas Fritz. 

C. Your real name is Frederick, isn't it? 

F. Nine, my real name vas Fritz. 

C. "What is your name then besides Fritz? 

F. Tere vas no podish name along te side of my name Fritz. 

C. You don't understand, I guess. What name do you have be- 
sides Fritz? 

F. I vould have you beside me and a^nd dot vould been Cleo be- 
side Fritz. 

C. Ha, ha, Well, what vas your father's name? 

F. His name vas Fritz. 

C. What vas your grand father's name? 

F. I guess dot vas Fritz too. They vas all been Fritz' dot i 
knows. 

O. Well [reads] this is to certify that I, Fritz [writes and reads] 
do hereby agree to be-a-devoted-friend-to — 

F. Tere Cleo vot vas your name ? 

C. Don't you know my name is Cleo. 

F. Yah, but vot else next to der side of Cleo. 

C. My name in full is Cleopatra. 

F. Cleopatra ! 

C. Yes, don't you know ? Ca^zar's sweetheart. 

F. Yat vas dot you doles me ? 

C. Csezar's sweetheart. [F. misunderstands her. Thinking she 
isays seize your sweetheart gets up and jumps around in o:; Joy.J 

C. What is the matter? 

F. Oh I feel so funny. Can you mean it? 

C. [^tands] Why certainly 1 mean. Why not? 

F. Tid you say seize yer sweetheart? 

C. Yes, Csezar's sweetheart. [Fritz rushes at her and embraces 
her. She struggles and frees herself] What do you mean, you im- 
pudent fellow; how dare you be so rude ! 

F. [Crying] Yer dole me ve could been shveethearts and I 
thought you vas said seize-yer-shveetheart and I vas so glad I 
youst done it. 

C. Well you misunderstood me. Csezar w^as a great man and 
^vasin love with a queen by the name of Cleopatra. But come sit 
"down again and lets finish our contract, [they sit again] 

F. Yell I vill [aside] Yell of I did missunderstood — I don't 
made her mate and I youst got von good skveeze. [laughs.[ 

C. Yell as I was reading: This is to certify that I, Fritz, do 
hereby agree to be a faithful, devoted friend to Cleopatra. Signed 
Jritz and Cleo. 



n 

F. Say, Cleo, vot vas your name dot vasn't Cleoi^atra ? 

C. 1 am like you, truly, Fritz, I don't got some names vot 
vasn't Cleo. Now that that is settled I have something to tell you 
— a secret, Fritz, and if you are really a true devoted friend you 
will help me keep it. You can help me a great deal. 

F. Vot was dot secrets ? 

C. Listen, Fritz, I got a baby. [Fritz faints, then recovers and 
jumps to his feet, surprise and wrath alike in his countenance.] 

F. A paby ! a paby ! 

C Yes a bady, that's not so terrible. 

F. Gif me dot contract. Mine Got! I don't been some devoted 
friend to some gals vot got some pabies vot don't been married. 
Dot vould ruin my pishness. 

C. Of course the baby isn't married, Fritz, but its mother is. 

F. Vash you married? I thought you said you vas alone and 
vould been my shveetheart. 

C. No, I'm not maraied, of course; I'm not the baby's mother. 
Listen, its the child of a very good friend of mine who was in Balti- 
more at the time of its birth. M}^ friend's husband was a Union sol 
dier, but he was lost in some battle or other and in order to keep 
the whole affair a secret she sent me the baby to take care of. Now 
listen, Fritz, when the baby comes of age, she will be a great heiress 
and we will share the money. Don't you see? I have all the papers 
a^nd everything to prove the child's identity. Now if I keep the ba- 
hy it might excite suspicion, but if you take it I'll see that you get 
money to maintain it. 

F. Vere ish dot paby ? 

C. There it is in the hollow tree in that basket. You take it 
Fritz. [Fritz takes basket from tree and begins to open it, when 
laughing and talking is heard autside and he suddenly sets basket 
down.] 

C. Oh Fritz ! 

F. Oh Cleo ! 

C. There's somebody coming ! 

F. There's somebody coming ! 

C. You take the baby, Fritz. = 

F. Nine you takes te paby, Cleo. 

C. You take it, its yours. 

F. You dakes him, he's yours. 

C. It is not mine, it is yours. 

F. Nine. It vas not mine, he vas yours. 

C. You said you'd take it. 

F. Yell you brought him here, [talking and laughing outside.] 

C. Well I'm going to hide, it will be you and the baby for t. 



12 

[hides in tree.j 

F. Yell, mine Got, I yotist hides too, ten it will been te baby for 
himself, [attempts to ge^ in the tree with Cleo, she pushes him 
away.] 

C. Go away Fritz, there isn't room in here for more than one.^ 

F. Tere ish, tere ish, I von't go vay. [still tries to get in.] 

C. Fritz go away, [approaching parties heard outside. Fritz 
inuch frightened, hides his head in the tree and trembles with fear] 
trhere is not room in here for two I tell yon. [she pushes him away, 
he falls backward, gets up and looks out, frightened.] 

F. Mine Got ! Vot lots of beapers ! Yat vill I done ! Oh, oh, oh ! 

C. [from tree] Take that baby and go off. [^Fritz takes up basket 
and rushes wildly up and down the stage trying to hide. 

C. Who is that coming, Fritz ? 

F. I don't know, I vas so skeered I could not tole of it vas my 
mother. 

C. Look, Fritz, and see. [he looks.] 

F. It vas Mishter Tom Galbraith and Mish AUie Branch. 

C. Gracious heavens have mercy ! [steps from tree] Fritz, for 
heavens' sake don't let those people see or know what i8i.\ that 
basket or we are all undone. [She steps into tree again and Fritz 
takes basket and tries to hide it behind tree at one end of stage as 
Tom and AUie came in at the othei*. As they advance Fritz goes 
On around the tree cleaving close to iL Tom and Allie do not per- 
ceive him, nor Cleo in the tree.] 

Tom. AUie, dear, what does so oppress you ! It is in vain, entire- 
ly in vain, that I attempted to attract your attention. 1 talk to you 
of our childhood days — halcyon days of yore — when I was all and 
all to you, love, as you were al\ and all to me. I am still the same, 
Allie, the change is alone in you. What can it be? What can I 
bave done that you treat me with slich marked indifference? 

Allie. Oh nothing, Tom, nothing. 

T. It must be something. It cannot be that you are displeased 
that I went into the Confederate army. 

A. No indeed, Tom, if it were I should also be displeased at 
papa, who was in the Confederate army too. 

T. One would think so, but you expatiato at such length on 
the immaculateness of the Federal officers, that one would think 
you had been in sympathy with the Union. Perhaps you have 
grown romantic and done something unusual and formed an at- 
tachment for some yankee soldier, [laughs.] 

A* And what if I have. 

T. What if you have, ha, ha, how rediculous, Allie. I'ou'd be 
too proud to marry him if you did. 



13 

A. No Tom, you misjudge me, I could not love u man I did not 
respect, and if I loved and respected a man I'd marry him as soon 
if he were a union man as if he were a secessionist, 

T. Then, perhaps, 3'ou loved and married some plebian yankee; 
ha, ha, and are too proud to own you are deserted, ha, ha. [by this 
time they have walked to the other end of the stage, and Fritz is 
8een on the other side of the tree carefully keeping the tree be» 
tween him and them] 

F. Oh tear, I vontersof I vasevestropping; dot was veiy wicked 
of Fritz, but he could not help some. I youst hear vat tat vas bout 
love and yankee. 

A. I am not deserted. 

T. Then you admit you are married, ha, ha, well I did not 
know I w^as courting some other man's wife. 

A. If I am now or ever am, thejnan that's my husband will be 
too much of a gentleman to taunt a woman because she does not 
love him. 

T. I did not mean to taunt 3'ou, Allie, besides you cannot mean 
you do not love me. 

F. Oh mine Got! sit still mine heart, [strikes his breast.] 

T. Think of the days before the war when we rode and drove 
together. You know it w^as ahvays intended that you and I should 
marry 

A. That was before the war and the war has worked great 
changes, aid w^hy not in me as well as anybody. Why not I be 
freed as well as Cleo, or any other slave. 

T. Eeally, Allie, you compel me to think you have learned to 
love some other man. 

A. I'll never learn to love any man. 

T. No, the man 3^ou marry should bo one you had loved al- 
ways, as you have me from childhood. 

A. Look here Tom, let me tell yon, I don't no more love you 
than you do me. I don't care to deceive 3'ou and you can't deceive 
me. You know you love Cleo, and I — well I love another man bet- 
ter than I do you. 

T. You are certainly candid. 

A. Why don't you be a man, and prove Cleo's identity and 
marry her? She ^s certainly beautiful and accomplished. 

T. Perhaps Cleo, like you, loves some other man. 

A. Well, let us be done with trying to make ourselves misera- 
ble simplv to gratify the whims of fooliish parents. 

T. Yes, bui you remember the will. What of my disinheri- 
tance if you and I don't marry? 

A. Of that another time. We can feign love for one another, 



14 

if you choo8e; but now, Tom, good-bye. I want to be alone, and 
I'll walk the rest of the way home alone. Good-bye. 

T. Well, don't say anything of mine and Cieo s affairs to any 
one. Some day you must tell me of your escapade with this un- 
known Federalist. Good-bye. [Exit Tom.] 

A. Oh, hapless me! What have I done to be thus wrongly 
dealt with? At seventeen I have had more of sorrow than I had 
thought to have had at seventy. It seems but yesterday since 1 
gave" my heart to Phillip McGregor. At this very spot we pro- 
mised to be all to one another. Oh, what unkind hand has torn 
him from me! Ah, Philip! Phillip! where are you to-day? 
Where, where are you? If thou art slain and cannot come tome in 
person, then would'st thou not send thy spirit here to comfort me ! 
I am so lonely, oh, so lonely ! [Cries.] No, thou wilt not come, 
then, nor my sweet babe. Oh,- baby ! baby! sweet image of thy 
father! [Cries.] All, all is gone that I would'st live for! Hus- 
band ! Child ! 

F. Mine Got! I veals sorry for dot 'omens. 1 youst wish she 
vould go vay, so as dot Gleo and me could finish up our leetle bish- 
ness. 

A. [Sees Fritz.] Why, Fritz, you startle me ! Are you there ? 

[F., finding himself observed, is rather angry and sits deliber- 
ately down beside the basket and lights his pipe.] No, ma'am, 1 
was not tere, I vas youst right here. 

A. That was very unkinp of you to be eavesdropping. 

F. I didn't drop nodings. 

A. I am afraid j^ou heard what I was saying to myself. 

F. Veil, if jou know your secrets already, vhy den vat for you 
tole *em to yourself again for? And of you tole em to yourself 
vat for you don't tole 'em in a weisper? 

A. l)id you hear my sad soliloquy ? 

F. I don't know of I heard him or not. I don't know who Mr. 
Soliloquy vas. 

A. Fritz, tell me, did you hear what I was saying? 

F. I youst tish minute eoomes here. 

A. Well, Fritz, you must not be ungentlemanly, it is not like 
you. But, say, what have you got in that basket ? 

F. Sausage meat. 

A. What kind of sausage meat, pork or beef? 

F. Dot vasn't pork^nor beef, dot vas k.'d. 

A. Oh ! Oh ! Some strange feeling comes over me I [Wails — 
looks wild.] 

F. Yot vas dot ? Vat ails you ? 

A. Oh, what is it? What can it be? 



15 

F. I 3'oust guess you vas right now going to have some fits. 

A. [Insanely.] Something tells me I am near my child, my 
pretty baby. 

F. Vas dot me? 

A. No, no; oh, no. 

F. Den dot someding tole you a lie, but yost but me dere vas; 
nopodish dot vas next to you right now but me. [Aside.] Mine 
Got ! I vas skeered. [Allie keeps crying.] 

C. [Peeping out from tree.] Fritz, for Heaven's sake, what do 
you mean? Go 'way with that basket quick. 

F. Veil, I vill go 'vay now, but I come right back so dat I fix 
up dot leetle pabj- pishness mit you; of I don't I'm skeered mit dot 
paby I makes my foot in it. • 

A. Oh, my husband! My husband! 

F. [Running to her.] Veil, here I vas, mine vife. 

A. [Not heeding him.] Oh, my chil i ! My child ! 

F. Veil, which of dem I vas? You calls me tish vay and dot 
vay, and makes me so muttled I don't know of I vas your hus- 
band or your paby. 

A. Go 'way from me and leave me ! 

F. Dot do I vill, right away quick. I guess you vas von leetle 
bit on to outside of your head, ot you knows vat dot vas. 

A. Where is my baby — where is my child ? 

F. Say, vomans, vat vas it you vas going to have already. Say, 
good-bye. 

A. [Following him.] Where is my child ? Where is my child? 

F. Say, Miss Branch, dot nightmare vat you vas having in de 
day-time vas a wild horse. You told me to go, and now I vas go- 
ing. [Seems much frightened.] 

A. [Catches him.] Tell me ! Tell me, base man — where is 
my child ! 

F. Oh, mine Got in himmel! I shoorc I don't know you gut 
some pabies. Go 'vay ! 

A. [Throwing both arms around his neck she shrieks.] Fritz! 
Fritz! Where's my child ! Where's my child! [Fritz, fright- 
ened terribly, struggles violently, and after much eftort gets loose. 
Allie faints and falls. Cleo slips out from tree and meets Fritz as 
he is about leaving the stage.] 

F. Gleo, confount you and dot paby 3'ou dakes him. Dot vas 
to biggest troubles I vas in ever in all my days. 

C. No, Fritz, you take it off and wait till I get Allie safely 
started home, and then come back and we will fix things. 

F. Vas dot her paby? I youst knows it vas. Mine Got, I vas 
dot skeered ! 



16 

C. No, no ! I don't know ! But no, no ! She acts very 
strangely. 

F. , Veil, Cleo, I comes back party quick, and dot secrets vas a 
purty little bit a gal paby of I keeps him. [Exit Fritz.] 

C. Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! This is dreadful ! Oh, miserable 
wretch that I am, how could I give my assistance to this terrible 
business. She'll haunt me forever. [Goes up to Allie.] Allie, 
Miss Allie ! Why, what's the matter? Allie, Miss Allie ! 

A. [Arousing.] Oh, oh. where am I, where am I? What's 
the matter with me ? What has happened ? Oh, Cleo, is that you ? 

C. Yes, Miss Allie, what indeed is the matter? You are here 
by the old hollow tree. Ho\^ came you here? Did something 
frighten you? 

A. Oh, yes, here by the old hollow tree. Is my baby in that 
tree ? I am sure it is. 

C. [Affecting a laugh.] Your baby ? Why, Allie, how funny I 
Ha! ha! Aae you joking? 

A. Ha! ha! Yes, what a joke ! [Laughs insanely.] What a 
joke ! My baby, ha ! ha ! M}^ baby ! How ridiculous ! Did you 
see Phillip, Cleo, my husband? Where is he? 

C. [Aside.] She's actually going insane [Aloud.] What 
can you mean about your husband and your child? 

A. [Laughing.] Oh, my baby must be hid in that hollow tree. 
I am sure it was here but a few moments since. [Looks in tree.] 
No, oh, no ! Where is my baby ? Where is my child ? 

C. Come, Aliie, dear, lets go home. Shan't I accompany you? 
Oh, how fortunate ! Here comes your father. 

A. Oh, ah, yes ; ha, ha, (enters B.) 

B. Why, what is this? Allie, what are you doing here? Where 
IB Tom ? 

A. (Embarrassed.) I — I don't know — oh, yes — I have'nt seen 
him. I'll — I'll go home with you — with you, pupa. 

B. Come, Allie. (Aside to C.) Does she know anything of the 
baby? 

C. Not that I know of. 

B. You come along, I wish to speak to you. 

A. Yes, come, Cleo, a little way with us. (As they go out Tom 
and Uncle Paul, an elderly colored man, enter the opposite end of 
the stage.) 

T. Well, Uncle Paul, have you concluded to accept my propo- 
sition ? 

P. Not zackly. 

T. Why not? Col. Branch is no-longer your master, and what 
attention does he give you that you need show such fidelity to 



17 

him ? Tell nic the particulars I so much wish for and I'll see that 
you are taken care of as long as you live, and Uncle Ros. does 
nothing- for you. 

P. I am loaf to break mj^ word, as I tole you all de time when 
we has conversed on dis particular subjec, an I don do it for no 
wo'ldly reward. I does it to recompence myself for de sin I 'mil- 
ted to dat chile and her parents. When Kizzy and me war mar- 
ried she had a infan' young babe, bout a yeah old. It war a 
white man's chile and de said looked like de Senataw what stayed 
one fall bout dem times at your pa's to hunt — and specks it war 
hisen — as it war pow'ful likely and powerful smart — ticklar smart. 
Dis war while traveling in Europe \\\d Mars and Miss — arter Kiz- 
zy and me war married. Well, Mr. G-albraith, I didn't take to dat 
chile see as how it war my wife's and w^arn't mine, and so one day 
when de bofe fell into de Danube ribber and as I couldn't swim 
wid em bofe I justtovN^ed de ole lady to de show and de infan had 
to be geddered home w^id de angS^s. Old Mars was ticlar decom- 
structed bout dat matter, and he cussed and rared, said I drowned 
de chile for purpose, and said he never forgib me, and right dar 
sprung up a strangement twixt him and me, though we had been 
togedder for years. A tew v/eeks arter dat we war some whar in 
Germany. Mars Rostund and I war riding in de dust of de eb'nen 
when we passed a 'oman totin' a little black eyed bab}". Pears like 
A^ars got inad wid me ime he seed dat chile. Said it minded him 
ot his own little Cleo, and took on't so I s'dvs, says I, Mars Eos- 
tund, if I stole dat chile back dar and gib it to Kizzy to bring up 
for you would you forgive me." He did not hesitate to deliber- 
ate but a few short minits when hejust said -'yes". Pie stopped wid 
de buggy under a thick shade tree out from de road. I went 
back to de 'omen and tole her Mars wanted to talk wid her and 
hold de chile till she went to de buggy, and while Mars war hold- 
in' ob her 'tention, I just slid like a sarpent or snake and took 
de chile wid me, and what it war w^ropped up in and go way down 
de road whar Mars took me np wid de chile arter he sent degal back 
whar she expected to fine' me. And when I heard him say as 
how some day 'twould bring him two thousand dollars, I knowed 
he done forgib me. 

T. And this little baby has grown up into a woman and is none 
other than Cleo. 

P. Dat am de truf as I lib, I done tole now I trus de Lord she 
may be 'stered back to her native Ian. If de Lord forgive me for 
de dredful ban' I played, I'll do all I kin to contrive her back to 
her parents. 

T. What came of the wraps that were around the child. Uncle 



18 

Paul? 

P. Dare dow, I done forgot dat ar 'ticlar evidence, show now. 
When I give de chile to Mars. Eoetand he say, "Paul dis am some 
rich man's child," and twar so too. The 'omen what hed de chile 
war just a nu'se. Mars says, '-look to dem tings, Paul, gi^ch cloths 
would 'ticlarize de chile and give evidence who it war, and dat 
would criminate de party wid de chile and Vict him ob de stelin' 
of it, so says he "Paul you take dem tings and 'stroy 'em," and I 
sen ted to it. 

T. But you did not, did you ? 

P. No, I done got 'em to dis day. 

^. Where are they and what all were there, and what will you 
take for them? 

P. Dere war a red velvet blanket wid a yellow lining and 
gold finery on it, and some gold letters in one corner, and some 
close de chile had on at ae time wid de same letters worked on 
'em. But de mos' evidencein' ticlar de child toted on hits piisson 
war a little gold locket, wid a scriptin on de outside and two 
somebodies pictures in de inside, one of a beautiful lady, and one 
of a man dat I suppose war iier husband, anh I 'lows day war de 
chile's parents. 

T. And you have all these thinii^s Uncle Paul ? 

P. Ise got em safe, and you can hab 'em any day. 

T. I can't express my gratitude, believe me you shall not go 
unrewarded. I will call for the articles this evening, good by, 
Uncle Paul. [Exit Paul.] Cleo, my own beloved, you shall yet 
be mine, my own lawful wife. 1 shall not stop until I have proven 
your identity. Oh queen of my hOart. Oh lonely flower I shall 
yet transplant you from the wild woods to the gardens of my fore 
fathers. [In the midst of this effusion, Tom walks off the stage. 
Presently Col. Branch and Miss Harriett Simmons enter simul- 
taneously at opposite ends of the stage, he bowing low and she 
courtesying.] 

B. Ah my dear Miss Harriett. 

H. Why Colonel, are you here? I am sure if I had known it 
I should not have come. Oh dear no, I mean I should have come 
if I had known you were here. Oh my heart — dear me — I mean 
— I — mean — I — 

B. You mean dear lady, while you are glad to meet me here, 
you would not wish to seem forward enough to intercept me here. 
I understand, believe me my dear lady. 

H. Oh yes to be sure, dear me, how kind of you Colonel, and 
how clever to read my thoughts so well. 

B. Yes, allow me [takes her hand and places her arm in his 



19 

they promenade] two souls me thinks with but a single thought. 

F. [Aside unobserved by them] dot vos how to get each others 
money. 

B. Two hearts that beat as one. 

F. They vas courtin' now. Yen they been married, them old 
peoples it will be two ones that beat as hard. 

B. [Taking her hand]. My dear Miss Hariett, it affords me 
unspeakable pleasure to meet you thus by chance. 'Tis like when 
one walks in an unfrequented garden, and when by chance one 
comes suddenly upon a fair white lily, bending as yet unseen its 
beautiful white blossoms beneath the weight of the sparkling 
morning dew. 

H. Oh dear now Colonel, that is mighty kind of you to say 
that if you are in earnest. 

B. In earnest, to be sure I am, Indeed, why^should not I be ? 
It is not every man my age can have the pleasure of saying tender 
things to a blushing young lady like yourself. Scarcely out of 
her teens. 

II. [Hiding her face, aside] He's one fooled man. [Aloud] 
Why Colonel, you're not so old. I'm sure you seem right suple- 
Joiiited. " 

B. [Aside] The old fool ! Suple-jointed indeed ! [Aloud] 
Yes but I am not so suple of joint as when I was a youthful Wes' 
Pointer. 

H. But why refer to those old days so long, long gone by ? 
What are past months and years but piles on piles of dead and 
withered leaves. 

B. Quite true, on the future we might muse and speak uf fond 
hopes and bright expectations. [Aside.] When I shall be spend- 
ing her boasted fifty thousand. 

A. And what's the future but a garden bear which must bring 
forth weeds as well as flowers, whose very seeds and germs are 
yet not grown, much less not known the warmth and moisture of 
the rich mould that must throw them up to bud and blossom. 

B. Ah yes fair creature. Perhaps then 'twould suit you bet- 
ter did I suggest the present? 

H. Yes, yes, dear Colonel, why waste words on what has been 
and will be, while we have what is. [Leans fondly on his breast, 
then stands erect and exclaims] 

Ye days apast, how e'er halcyon thy mayest ne ! 

Oh future days though bright through all eternity } 
What art thou ! The present's ?o sweet to me! 

[Eelapses onto his breast again with her arms around his neck, 



20 

when Fritz marches in, stepping to the tune he blows loudly on 
a bugle. B. and H. spring apart, H. screams and most fiiints, B. 
looks mad and shakes his fist behind Fritz's back, who blows his 
bugle, dances and goes off and B. and H. approach each other.] 

H. Ob dear Colonel do you think we were observed? 

B. Perhaps — our glorious present is not proof against inglo- 
rious intrusions. [Aside] By George, the fool, what if that Dutch- 
man saw me and inadvertantly, tell Cleo so. [Aloud]. Come sit 
here my precious bird of Paradise and let me whisper low sweet 
words of love in thy pink pretty ears, so used to such soft breath- 
ings of tender though burning passions of hearts so much and oft 
enamoured b}^ the bewitching charms of thy form and face that do 
weave such magic spells, about the sterner sex, prostrating men at 
thy dainty feet. 

H. [Almost giving way with emotion.] Oh my dear sweet 
Colonel, how^estatic it is to be so sweetly adressed by one so 
fondly loved. [They sit closely.] 

B. [Embraces her.] [Aside] Would to heaven I could but grasp 
the bosted fifty thousand as tightly. (Aloud.) Ah my pretty 
dear do you not find it lonely in your solitary unmarried life? 

H. I do indeed, and 1 am so much anoyed in attending to my 
business affairs. 

B. (Aside.) Ah, an open door, I'll but step in,.-. (Aloud.) To 
be sure, and what better thing could you do but marry and put 
this unwieldy burden on stronger shoulders. 

H. True, true, 'tis so I've thought. (Aside.) He's warming 
up to it. 

B You should be careful to select, from all your admirers, of 
all the men who fain would wed the fair Hattie^ (aside.) She's- 
never had a chance to marry in her life^ (Aloud.) Some one 
capable, some man ef experiehee in such matters to handle well 
your handsome fortune. 

H. Ah yes, of all my admirers — yes how well said. (Aside..) 
He's a fooled man, there is not many men distracted about me. 
(Aloud.) But who — who more suitable — but — oh reall}' — I blush 
to be so bold — who more — 

B. (Aside.) By George, but this most sickens me. (Aloud, 
taking her hand.) Sweet fair young girl, if I might dare to speak 
it — think it. — ('Drops on his knees.) If I might be so presuming 
— (Fritz rushes m, crying aloud.) 

F. Apples — apples. (H. rushes screaming to the end of the 
stage.) 

B. (Fiercel}'.) How dare you thus intrude ! You scoundrel ! 

F. I don't know of it vA^ intrudin' to valk in to jDroad taylight 



21 

along mit a path vot eveiy podish valks in. I vas mistookin. But 
say, I dinks ven old peoples like you and dot old vomens is cortin' 
tey youst petter as go in niit der bouse and pull der plinds down, 
und leave sparkin' in de lawn to youngsters vot got sense 
enough to be shly, and vasn't so old and teaf and blint, tbey could 
not see some padish till they steps on 'em. 

B. Begone you scamp. 

F. All right. (To H.) vSay you great long shlim weejiing wil- 
low twig vot vas going to been a Branch, come back here and 
stop shedin' tears. (Cries) apples, — fine apples. [Exit.] 

H. Ah Colonel^ what were you saying? Yoa were about to 
ask me — 

B. [Aside.] If I must, I must. [Aloud.] 'Tis most presum- 
ing of one my age — age. 

H. Though the head be gray and bald, and the face be wrinkled 
and dead, if so the heart be young — young. 

B, [Aside.] Bald and gray, wrinkled and dead ! Indeed, by 
G-eorge. [Aloud.] The heart be young, yes, if so the heart be 
young. 

H. 'Tis all I ask, if so the heart be young. Pray have no mis- 
givings Colonel. Let not the timidity of your manly heart de- 
fraud you of the untold bliss that but awaits your grasping to be 
thine forever. 

B. Ahem. [Aside.] It's scarcely worth my while to beg for 
what is thrust upon me — but I must be gallant. [Kneels.] 
Adored maiden, idol of my heart, wouldst thou — [Enters Fritz.] 

F. [Aside.] He vas youst doin' tem dewotimal evercises some 
more. [Aloud.] You vas saying your prayers again some more 
old man, hey! [Branch jumps up and H. screams.] 

B. Villain! dog! 

F. Veil, you vas a hypocrit vat prayed in public places. Vhj^ 
don't you as to good book says, enter in some closets or some se- 
cret places ven you say your long prayers? 

B. Begone you insolent puppy ! 

F. [To B.] Say don't you want to buy some apples ? [To H.] 
Here vas some vot youst suit your taste. They vas nice soft mel- 
low apples vot you can eat midt out any teeth. 

B. Begone, I tell you ! 

F. I von't been gone. I youst got as good right on tish camp- 
meeting ground as any j^odish. . But I dinks it vas times you sung 
te doctor's phisology. [Goes off singing "All Hail te Power of 
Jesus Name let Angles (points to B.) prostrate fall. 

H. Oh cruel fate ! What were you saying Colonel? 

B. Ah yes, [Aside] I am terribly disgusted with this thing, 



22 

by Greorge. [Aloud]. But some other time, fair Hattie. 

H. No my dear Colonel, now dear me, how unfortunate, but 
then the course of true love never did run straight. Come sit 
down again. [They sit.] Now what were you saying Colonel ? 
I'm sure you dare to speak it. 

B. Another time 1 beg — another time. I must have time to 
frame my words into sentences becoming such occasions. [Aside] 
By George, me thinks the prize I covet— the fifty thousand is 
scarcely worth the ordeal of winning. 

H. As you please dear Colonel, though I am sure I'd not be 
■over particular. Its the import of what you were saying I am 
after. [The cries of an infant startle them both.] 
B and H. What's that. 

B. By George! What can Cleo mean ! I must be off. [Stand- 

ingj H. reclines lovingly in B.'s arms, he regards her lovingly. 

IL Oh stay, stay, my love ! [Fritz enters with baby holding 

it up,] Coming events [points to baby] cast their shadows before. 

[Points to B. and H. who hasten from the stage.] 

F. [To baby.] There now little cherub, I dinks ve proke up 
dot prayer meetin'. They vas mate me tired listening to dose de- 
votional exercises. Ve vast youst go to meet Cleo, of she vas come 
■back from the yard. [Goes off] 

(Exit Fritz with baby at one end as Branch enters stealthily at 
"the other.) 

B. By the eternals, 'tis the same child ! Had I not seen it I'd 
known it by its voice when it whimpered (steals further in). Would 
"to God I were not such a fiend or that I were doubly so ; that I did 
not want this babe dispatched or that 1 had will to do it. My God, 
and am I so soon betrayed ! I did not think it of her ! Cleo, Cleo! 
But yet me thinks right* often I've seen her in company with this 
Dutchman, and 'tis but likely he saw me court that old maid Har- 
riet and told Cleo, who deemed I'd broken faith with her, when 
thus to retalliateshe let Frstz know my secret ; and am I thus un- 
done? (Goes out and Fritz enters with the basket which he places 
in hollow tree.) 

F. Tere now shtay there, my pretty pet, till I cooms pack, 'Twill 
joust been but a leetle vhile. I guess you shleeps some all te times 
veh I been gone. Of Gleo vas come I could not leaves you tene all 
:alone by your leetle self. Goot bye, mine leetle ootsey pootsey ; I 
been back pretty soon quick. (Exit Fritzs — enters Branch, exci- 
ted,) 

B. Me thinks I'm not so weak a fi^nd as first I'd thought my- 
self to be (pauses.) Where is' M Where is't! But no; but no! 
It can't be that I've become so base. No ; ha, ha ! No, not just 



23 

now become so base, but to myself become some better known, ba^ 
ha. For bad I known when, that this baby lived was known to 
me alone, that I had lack of heart to do this thing, I'd done it. 
But perhaps 'tis not too late. Did he not bring it here but now ? 
I'll look. [Looks and sees basket in tree.] Ha, the basket, — 'tis 
there. [Peers into basket.] Ha, the covering moves with the 
little thing's soft breathing. I'll do this thing, but how? I have 
it, fortune favors me. I've^v^th me now the stuff with which I 
made the child go to sleep. I've to double the portion but once 
to double the effect ten thousand times. [Takes bottle from pock- 
et and saturates a handkerchief] There, I'll assure myself that 
no one comes, [looks both ways] and nerve myself with a moments 
cogitation. My daughters fair name, wealth, position and 
honor, (xalbraith Hall for Allie and Mont View for myself, cry 
out: "This little bud for earth too fair must go, to heaven to 
blossom there." I'll to my task, for he who wills to do a dirty 
deed and falters is not less the fiend, but more the coward. 
[Kneels by basket, turning his face away, screaning it with one 
hand while he thrusts the hand holding the handkerchief into the 
basket.] I'll turn my face, lest the sight of tne baby's face snould 
make me squeemish. It struggles hard but cannot speak. Oh je 
devils that put me on to this foul deed, now see me through it. 
Calmer it grows, and struggles less. 'Tis still — tis dead — dead — 
and I — 

F. [Eushes in] And you? Vat you doin ? Vat you done? 

B. You lie, I have done nothing. 

F. [Examines basket.] Yuo lie, you vas done sometings, boo — 
hoo — vat for you killed mine leetle tog ! [Draws a stuffed dog 
from basket and cries.] 

B. A dog? [Aside.] Sold again, by George, I don't know if I 
should curse or laugh. 

F. Yes my to^? [Fritz cries and pets the dog, then taking it 
by the tail swings it around and throws it at Branch, knocking 
him down. Fritz goes off crying.] 

B. By the Gods, Eestand Branch was never so chagrined as 
now, ha ha, as say the niggers : I got the wrong sow by the ear 
that time. There is nothing gained that that boy Fritz discover- 
ed I'd but killed a dog, for had he known I'd killed the child and 
dared confrunt me with it, I could as well have said 'twas he, and 
if he'd pusl ed me I'd stabbed him to the heart and swore I did it 
in the child's defense. But, who have we hei'e? How now Cleo, 
did you see Allie home and safe, and did she become quieter and 
better reconciled. 

C. No, noj my dear Colonel, and you're hard of heart and 



24 

cruel I must say, my love, to practice such unkindness on your 
daughter. 

B. Do not chide me darling, did I not pay you for your pains. 

C. You did what I required at least. 

B. Then why that sad complaining face? 

C. Because you gave me o*Jcasion to require so much of you by 
requiring so much of me. Pure love that pulses in pure hear^.s 
and makes the face to glow with sweet^Dcacefulness, the soul feels 
should have naught of requiring. 

B. Then you're dissatisfied my love? You reconfirm the fears 
I felt, but banished at sight again ofymi**sweet face, that you had 
played me false, and let Fritz know my secret. 

C. Fritz? Oh no, we've a compact though as regards the rear- 
ing of the child; to live together at the cottage. I left the child 
with him, but no-w. [B. draws Cleo's arm in his and they go off 
as Fritz appears with the child in his arms.] 

F. There now, what vas tooks one anothers for better as vorse vas 
youst better as got acxuainted some. You vasTharessa? Yat! 
you don't know dot before ? Yah you vas Tharessa, dot vos mine 
mutter vot vos Tharessa, and dot vos mine sister vot vos Tharessa, 
and so dot vos my leetle girl vot vos Tharessa. Yah, yah, and dot 
vas me dot vas Fritz. Yat! don't know dot? Oh yah, dot vas 
me, Fritz, and I 3^oust»ca.'l you Tracy, vot vas Tharessa made 
quicker, and then ve vos Fritz and Tracy vot vas took one another 
for better and vorse until death vos not put us apart together, not 
much. [The baby cries.] Oh, vot vos you don't like dot again 
already, or vos dot some pins a sticken' you? Nine, oh vos you 
got some collicks? [Laj^s child on his knee face downward and 
trots it so the baby cries louder.] Nine; there, there. [Gets up 
and shakes baby and walks up and down the stage, bab}^ cries and 
Fritz sings a German lullaby.] 

8hlof kint line shlof, 

Ter mutter heat te shof, 
Der fatter heat te brownie coo, 

Kintline moschdine oint line tsu, 
Slof kintline slof, 

[Baby cries, Fritz sings, shakes 1^aby and walks back a.\d forth as 
C-Ui'tain fallsj 



ACT 11. . 

(Three years later.) 
Scene. — ^Interior of Cleo's cottage. Large, open double window 



in the rear, two or three steps leading up to it. Enters Allie wild 
and haggard with long dishevelled hair and tattered garments, 
and carrying a long and crooked and forked stick, looking wildly 
and eagerly about.] 

Allie. liere — here; 'tis, here. Oh! ray child; ray sweet, sweet 
child, so cruelly torn from me. Oh! ray precious baby, here it is 
the}' keep3'ou hidden.— Keep 3^0 u from niOf«'fi*i^"ti1l|tl(%*that 1 might 
know thee not, know thee never, never more, my sweet, sweet girl. 
But ah ! — ah I I'll toil thefn in their fiendish cruelty. I'll save you 
yet me child and thou shall know again a mother's love. Ah! what is 
this? what is this? — [snatches up a childs dress] Oh! blessed rag 
and hast thljji touched my precious babe? [kisses it wildly and 
laughs, and cries hysterically.] Oh you most favored pretty dress. 
[Holds it out from her and scans it eagerly.] I'll Keep it! I'll keep 
it! I'll have nead of it. The child it fits is my own sweet bab}' 
girl. [Put in pocket.] Ah ! [half scarcasm] and this [lifting up 
a childs slipper from the floor, kisses it and laughs and cries in- 
sanely, when Fritz is heard in the distance,] (hisses) what's there, 
[puts her hand to her ear and listenes intentively, leaning in the 
direction of the sound as it grows nearer.] Oh I must be quick — 
I must be quick. [Fritz is neard nearer.] They come, perhaps 
they'll bring my child. Oh ray precious child. I'll hide out side. 
[Goes out, Fritz enters singing.] 

Till de la he hoo, till de la he hoc, 

With flowers to sell I come to you. 

Till de la he hoo, till de la he hoo, 

With flowers ' . ? l I come to you. 

There is cowslips yellow and daises white, 

As I'resh and fafras the morning light. 
For I gathered them fresh in the morning dew, 

Roses red and violets blue. 
Till de la he hoo, till de la he hoo, 

With flowers to sell I come to you. 
Till de la he hoo, ull d© la he hoo. 

With flowers I come to you. 

There's buttercups and golden red, 

Hyacynths and tulips too, 
Jassamine, myrtle and lilies white. 

Boquets and nose gays all for you. 
Till de la he hoo, till de la he hoo. 

With flowers to sell I come to you. 
Till de la he hoo, till de la he hoo, 

With flowers I come to you. 

[Fritz waltzes and plays guitar with Tracy sitting astride his 



26 

neck 01) his shoulders. She sits erect holding a basket of roses on 
Fritz's head, while Fritz waltzes np and down the stage, Tracy 
dropping the boqiiets about over the floor, when the basket is 
empty, the child descends to the floor. As Fritz sings and dances 
she trips lightly from one boquet to another, as Fritz waltzes near 
them Tracy tosses th£ boq^uets into the basket on Fritz's head.] 

Fritz. Dere now Ti-ac}^ you was te biggest, te purtiest and sweet- 
est dot was in te bunch, flow many vas tat 3^ou don't got sold? Von, 
do, dree, four, dot vas very veil, dot vas a purdy goot bishness. 

Tracy. Wooky what lots of mone^^. [Eatiles coins in the bas- 
ket.] Don't you think you will be rich some day? 

F. Yah, Yah, [laughs] vill pearly girly, dot vas purty certain, 
not much. Ourpank was yoost likede spring in te plum garteu. 
Youst as the vaters gets in tere it goes a vay quick. When I gets 
mine moneys vat I dinks vas mine a good teal. Ten lore 
Fritz couldinvested it, Cleo says, Fritz, Tracy wants dis, and Tracy 
wants dat, and it vas all gone. But I vas purty rich vie I've got ray 
one little bete a Tracy, and you vas not so poverty struk vile I vas 
Fritz and sell flowers and fruits. 

Tracy. Aren't 3'ou my papa Fritz. 

Fritz. Nine, ha ha, [laughs] dot vas do dickelsome I youst got 
do laugh. 

T. Why, Fritz, 1 think you are old enough, aren't you? 

F. [Laughs boisterously.] Vel, but dumplin, every man dot vas 
old enough don't got to be my purty leetle girl.s father. 

T. Well I hear the little girls that buy flowers say "papa, pa- 
pa" and I Want to say that to, so I think I'll have you for my papa. 

F. Nine, nine me pet, dot wouldn't do. 

T. Why? 

F. Ha ha, [laughs] I vas don't been too purty enough, 

T. When will you oe my papa? 

F. Yen dere little roses commence to grow on te Jimson vead 
stalk, or the appricots grow on te gum tree, 

T, Well, who is my papa anyhow then, if you aren't ? 

F. Yell I guess you vas like all te utter sweet little girls vat 
dere miithers gots. I youst guess St. Beter sent you down by del- 
ephone. [All this time Friiz has been counting his money, and 
now he begins deviding it ] Tere vas a time for Cleo, and tere was 
a quvarter for Tracy, and tere vas a nickel for Fritz, and tere was 
aquvarter for Cleo, and tere was a half taller for Tracy, and tere 
was a time for Fritz, tere was do times for Cleo, and dree times for 
Tracy, and one time for Fritz, and tere was a nickel for Cleo, and 
tere vas one time for Tracy, and tere vas nothings for Fritz. 



27 

[Tracy holds her coins in hands, Fritz puts his in his pocket, and 
Cleo's remain on the table.] 

T. Fritz, I meant to tell you, but since early dawn I've scarcely 
had time to think of it. i had last night such a wonderful, won- 
derful dream, 

F. Vat vas dat tream little angel ? 

T. Listen [steps to middle of the s;age declaims with suitable 
gestures.] 

It was a strange,, strange dreani I had last night, 

As I lay in my trundle bed ; 
With one little hand on my brest just so, 

And the other beneath my head. 
Home part of my dream was hard and bad. 

And made me shudder and sigh. 
When I think of it now it pains my lieart. 

And almost makes me cry. 
But Fritz, oh Fritz, the rest ol my dream, 

Was beautiful bright and sweet. 
It made me think of the light of heaven, m 

On the beautiful golden street. 
But who do you think I thought I saw, 

In this vision that came to me. 
That made me tremble anon with fear. 

Then shout with sucli^estacy.^ 
Well, I dreamed I saw my mam«f a y 
A mama real and true — 
Not some kind, sweet, make believe mamiriA ^ 
Just like Cleo and you. 

But my own sweet, sure enough mamnfft- 
As I've seen with the other girls. 

To kiss my sweet lips and caress me, 
To smooth down my silken curls. 

When she first came before me, oh dear ; 
My little breast heaves v/ith sighs. 

Her gaze was weird and excited. 
Wild and sad her great big eyes. 

Her long hair hung loose and entangled. 
Her garments were ragged and worn, 

Her lips stood apart as she gasped for breath, 
Her bear feet were bleading and torn. 

Her thin nostrals distended— eyes a blaze, 
Her long bony fingers clutched wild. 

The spell was broken — she bounded at me, 
Shreiking aloud, "my child ! my child ! " 
F. Ouche; Tracy, dot was a big supper you eat last night. You 
don't ought to have some dreams got you down on your back like 
dat. You vas mate me right skeered. I dole you, you don't got 
some rauthers,Jlot maniac voraaus vat vas so shlim, and don't vas 
comb her hair, vat don't got some shoes on. don't got some sweet lit- 



lie gals like von. I youst dole Toa. Traev. vou ilon't £:oi iv'ine r . 
ma. except me u^iltss it vas Cleo. Come here [takes Tracy on his 
kcee.] 

T. Tell me a story. Fritz, a pretty, real story. Xot a may-be t 

F. Tat alw^ad I dole you Tracy. 

T. Anything so it is a true story. 

F. Veil, I yoasttl'iiik me. I dinks I'll tole yi a abont a lit lepapy 
dot woald been my little sifter if she duie been de.^d. Don 1 1 va"s 
tole yoQ boat dat already. Veil I dinks u^t. Dot vas my little 
fcisier, she vas a purty - child rait shiney plack hair and eys. She 
vas name Tracy youst like you and dots vat I call you Tracy for. 
Veil, my muther. dot vas Tracy "5 matljer. I vasn't borned yet. but 
heard them spoken of it. Tracy vas older as me Oiicyenr. Veil, 
(ine evening in te dark ven te lightening bugs vas y.^ust beginin to 
strike tere matches and the skeeters vas voast vaken up I guess 
from ter ailernoon shleep, dot is if they ever shleep any*->I dont 
dinks she toifiatrine. dot vas my nurse and va-s been Tracy's, she 
vas a big stoud vomansyoa-t like a man. SheVastook my little sis- 
ter out vat vas goin to been ven I vasbeen b<>rned,aud make his little 
planket on him bout and valked oat for a stn»ll on te river bank.s 
by te n»ad. Yen she got pr^y lar from te house, she say as bo* 
too mans come down a'teng in a horse and baggy. 

T. Just in a buggj-, Fritz, drawn by a horse. 

F. Driving along in a horse and buggy, dot vot I say, and von 
va-s black an-i^voQ was white. 

T. They had two horses, then — a. white one and a black one. 

F. Xine, nine! Just dwo mans in von horse and bugiry, and 
I tole you von was white and te utter vas black. 

T. Oh, yes: the horse was white, bitched to a black buggy. 

F. Tracy, don you got some dwo cent in your beau ? 1 just 
tole you dot in te horse and bug^y vas dwo mans, and von was a 
white mans and te utter vas a neeger. Ven te droves by Katrine 
mit te leetle baby, te make der eyes at em straight quick. She no- 
tice dot and purdy soon te white gentleman just make dottarkey 
gotoud from te buggy and told him tell Kathrine he wanted to 
spokes mit her, and te neegar would just hold to leetle gal vile 
Kathrine let te gentleman talk some sweet words or somethings 
like dot te her, and ven he quit spoken and Kathrine vent to takes 
some steps pack to vere she left te baby mit ter colored mans, te 
mans vas gone and she runs to tole te mans in some buggies and he 
vai< gone. And rhat you tinks? Vile .she vas listojp to dem purty 
words of dot man vas telling her lies bout she vas ^goot looking;, 
te Eigger jui5t slips avay around and hid in .some tick shady tree^, 



29 

iiiid ven hi.s master come up te all i^ot someselves in te buggy and 
road otf mil te leetle baby, and Kathrine corned home mitout te 
chile (cries) and mitout von leetle sister vhat vas going to been 
mine. Oud vasn"t dot pad ? 

T. Oh, dear, dear ! and didnt you never hear of the child again? 

F. Nine. Father thought b\- te neggar dot te vas from Ameri- 
ca, and I vas just going te keep [poking until I find her if she been 
in this country. 

T. That was a beautiful story, only it makes me so sad. Frits, 
I do hope you will find your sister, iiay, Frits, what kin is she to 
me? 

F. If I don find her I dinks she vas been some purty fur otf 
kin. 

T. I Hope, Frits, you will find her. 

F. Yes, I hope so, too, but you vas gotten shleepy. I dink you 
duke some naps of sbleep you would feel better. You vas up rait 
te lark tis market tay. 

T. Yes, Frits, I wish you"d sing me to sleep. (Frits takes Tra- 
cy and singing a German lulaby --Eock a hy," &c., pets her and 
places her gracefully in a hammock swung across one corner of 
the room and arranges the boquets around her to make a pretty 
picture : then waltzes and sings and sways hammock back and 
forth; Tracy lays with one hand under her head and one hand on 
her breast.) 

F. Tere, now : shleep prittv creature, schleep. I just wonder 
whj' Cleo done been come back home already. It vas a good wile 
she don't been here quick. I done like to leave Tracy mit no 
somebodys here mit just but herself. Cleo just made me so mate. 
I wouter she don't come, when she knows I was been purty busy 
m te garden. (Puts on a large apron and broadbrimed straw hat; 
ties hat on with strings.) Tell, 'Rest purty durdle doves rest in 
dot shveet leetle nest," while I weed out the beautiful fiowers in te 
garden. (Kisses his hand to Tracy and goes out.) 

T. (In a low voice Tracy murmurs.) Mamfl^tmamma I (AUie 
steals in, step by step, from the same end of stage the hammock 
swings in. She does not perceive it ; looks wildly about.) 

A. Where is she? Where have they hid hear? Was she not 
but just here this moment? Where is my child, where, where? 
(Col. Brance here is seen to walk apast the open window and stop- 
ping looks in unseen by AUie, and hides ootside the window.) Did 
I not hear the music of thy enchaatiug voice but now? Oh, where? 
(Here she turns around in the act of wringing ber hands when 
her eyes fall on the child in the hammock on which she gazes en- 



30 

rapped with ecstacy for an instant, then springs at the child, ex- 
claiming,) My child, my child ! 

T. (Simultaneously springs up.) Mamma, mamma! (AUie 
catches up Tracy and tries to escape, but Gol. B., who leaps in 
through the window, his Lead and person too much inveloped in 
an immence cape to be recognized by AUie, he snatches the child 
froM her amidst the screams of each'; AUie, unheading the com- 
mands of her father to desist froitt her ravings is rudel^^ struck to 
the floor, and Brance is on the eve of leaving the room with the 
child but is met in the door by Frits, at sight of whom Tracy cries) 
Frits, Frits ! Save me ! 

F. Git oud ! Git oud ! 3^ou varments (snatches Tracy and knocks 
Branch down). Dish house done do some business like dot ! 

T. Fritz, I've found the mamma^ I saw her in my strange 
dreams — there she on the floor dead ! dead ! Oh dear (cries). 

F. Hush, Tracy, hush! You makes me mate some. Dot's no- 
bodys but old Pranch's lunatic daughter. I heard dish morning 
at te market how she had escaped from te sylum mit no brains at 
all and less clothes. You mustn't say dot vas your mutter. Peo- 
ples tinks you vas j^ou vas peculiar. 

T. I wish Cleo would come. 

F. Yes, confound Oleo. Now, Johnnyrjump-up, you just go to 
your leetle ped and go to shleep again. (Tracy goes out. Fritz 
walks up to Branch and stirs him with his foot.) Here, vake up 
and skip mit out paying your bill. (Branch doesn't stir.) Py cho, 
I guess dot vot a silent partner. (Kicks Branch.) Mine Got! Yell, 
if he vas dead I done know if I swone it was selftefence or momun- 
tary insanity that killed him (Stoops down and examins him.) 
Yell, I done know if he vas extrastink or not. I jnst telephone to 
know if his soul vas gone to hell. (Kicks him again, harder — calls 
aloud.) Hello-o-o , Belsepub ! (Puts his hand to his ear as if hold- 
ing a telephone instrument.) Hello, Primstone ! Yas tish Brim- 
stone? Yes. Yell, vas old Belsepub in? Yes. Yell, was old Branch 
down tere? Nine? Yell (to himself) if he vas he vas a putty shal- 
low Branch ; I j^^gucss he vas tried up. I just vet him up a bee- 
tle (takes bucket of water and dashes it in his face.) 

B. (Jumping to a sitting posture.) Whew! Whew! 

F. Hello, Mr. Branch, 3'ou didn't taught you vas a limb on te 
tree of life to blossom in heaven already did you? 

B. Oh, oh! Where am I? 

F. Yell, you know you vasu't in hell or you wouldn't been so 
wet [kicks him] get up, get up Mishter Frogpoiid. 

B. [Arising] Surrah f my name is Brancet 



31 

F. Mine got, jou vas a mutty branch, I done know of you vas 
fuller of slitugiia:»t va:ei' and bad wi^key? Tere you did not got 
to Steele mine purty little gal. I gaesH I won't knock you down q^ 
you steels dot crazy gal dot vas ^'ourown. 

B. Ilow dare you speak thuiof my poor demented child. 

F. Yat I got to do mit hei- dementled. She Cnm& of te temen- 
taled Branch. Take oif j^our tead plunder I say! 

B. . I swear 111 not endure this. Here Gabrial here! [Branch 
draws a revolvaras Grbrial cofuesin, Fritz walks up and snatches 
the revolvai* from Branch's hand.] 

F. Tere now, angel of midnight, youst dake off dot shleeping 
beauty. Histe your wings and fly mit her. 

B. [Going to Allie,] Allie, ni}^ child, don't you know me. 

F. You vasen't so anxious for her to recognize dot elengated 
phis when y^u vas had ilot cloak on your head. 

B. Take her up Gabrial, be careful now. 

F. Yes, dake her up denderly, handle her mitcare. Tere gem- 
iny chrismas, how$he ' willrare. 

G. Mars, am she dead? I bees feared to tech a dead somebodies. 
F. Nine, stie done been, deadjshe youst been some trances. I 

vakes her [points pistol at Gabrial who jump3 and Mr. Branch 
steps forw^ard when Fritz fires at him, he tires at one then the 
other and general confusion reigns wiien Allie arouses gradually, and 
sits resting on one hand and runs the fingers of the other hand 
through her hair, then in a measured subdued voice.] 

A. And— is— this— hell? 

F. Nine, voiuans, you vas misstooken [pointing to G.] tere vas 
te angel Gabrial, and tere [pointing to B.] vas te devil, but tish 
vas not hell ten, dish vas ven I stays. You don't seen metid you? 
You tink you vas in heaven, look vat a pretty leetle cherub [struts 
and flaps his arras like wings.] . ^ 

B. Come, Allie aarling, don't you know me? Assist her to ar- 
rise Gabrial ! Allie look at me, don't you know your dear father? 

A. [Looks at him and seems embarrassed. She recognizes him 
for the first time.] Oh, ah, yes [smiles sillyly.] Why papa^papa 
you here? 

B. Yes, my dear, aren't 3- ou going home with me? 

A. Yes— yes — oh, dear — to be sure, where should I go ? [Oh' my 
child, my child ! [They are about to go out, when she turns around 
to Fritz.] 1 yet shall find my child and claim my own. 

F. I vish you some good lucks. Of 3'Ou fints your own ten you 
wont be so straight after mine. I vonters of she got some child- 
ren. Dot vas curious boud Tracy's dream, I youst vonder; nine, 



32 

nine, it cannot been. Yell, I must make mine weeds out of mine 
garten. [Picks up garden rake and waltzes out balancing the end 
of the rake on his fingers. Entres Cleo and Galbraith.] 

jC. And so you are home from Europe once more? I'am de- 
lighted to see you. 

Ct. Are you indeed Cleo? 

C Yes indeed, 3id you have a pleasant time? What sights you 
must have seen. Come^sit down and tell of them, [they sit.] I 
suppose you must foel very wise now, did you learn a great deal? 

Gr. "Not so wise but I did gain some very valuable information 
concerning you Cleo. 

C. Which concerns me, oh how ridiculous, [laughs.] i)o not jest. 

B. Believe me Cleo I do not jest. I speak the truth, I gained 
iniormation concerning 3^ou in Europe, that is I got the infbrrtia- 
tion here and had it substantiated in Crermany. 

C. Dear me are you in earnest, you quite surprise me. What is 
this wonderful news? Pray tell me. 

G. Yery well after a little prelace, I will. Do you remember 
Cleo, the argument advanced against our mai^r^'ing was that you 
were an octoroon and I was a white man. Well suppose I told you 
you were entirely white would you marry me then ? 

C. No ! I'd call you a liar and accuse 3^ou of tiying to deceive 
me basely only to accomplish your purpose and thus render me 
miserable for life. 

G-. Cleo! Cleo! You do me injustice, a gross injustice. You 
are a white woman and I not only say it but can prove it to you 
beyond a doubt. 

C. I don't believe you. 

G. Well listen Cleo it I prove it will you many me! 

C. But I have always loved some one else. 

Gr. You always have. 1 am to hope you don't now? 

C. You need have no vain hopes about anj^thing concerning 
me. 

G. How unfair you are Cleo. I would have married you be- 
fore I knew you were not a colored woman had you been willing, 
wdiile 1 know^ that you were supposed to be a colored woman^was 
the reason Branch gave to put you off. 

C. Well lets hear your evidence that 1 am white. 

G Well is it agreed? You want to know how well I love you 
Cleo? 

C. Lets hear your story. 

G. Well don't think by gaining the information I can give you 
that the obstacle is removed from between you and Uncle Eos- 



33 

timd, from what I have just learned he has known all the time. 

C. He hasrCtl Mr. Galtraith if I was a vjhite woman I'd kill 
you for that taunt. , : 

" G. I do not mean to taunt you Cleo, 1 only want to show you 
how foolish it is to attach anything worth while to that old rascal, 
who loves that old Miss Harriett Simmons and her little for une 
far better than he ever did you. I am excusable for seeming egot 
ism, but Cleo I am young, of good f mily, have some propert}' and 
I hope I am as good lottking as old man Branch. 

C, ' Pra}' don't be so tiresome, go on with the mythical tale of 
ray romantic babyhood. 

G. Yery well. Come here Uncle Paul. [A very respectable 
looking mulatto with snow white head comes in.] Kow" Cleo Un- 
cle Paul whoiii you have alw^ays loved and honored and whose 
w^ord you cannot doubt will bear witness to every thing I say. 

P. Yes Koney^Mr. Tom. will only speak de truf 

C. Oh dear 3'ou all quite unnerved me, 

T. . Cleo, as you know from childhood as we grew up together, 
i learned to love 3'ou and when I became old enough to under- 
.stand it mj' heart was broken because as I thought you were col- 
ored we could not marry. But as you know I came to love you 
so ardently and from Allie's going insane I was relieved from my 
obligations to her and could not be deprived of my heritage for 
not marrying her, that I resolved to marry you il you were an oc- 
toroon, you know how you refused repeatedly saying I vvould i-e- 
pent of luy bargain. I was so disap))ointed and wished so much 
that you were realh white and the obstacle thus Temoved, that 1 
began to hope it might be really true, and with this faint hope I 
consulted Uncle Paul about it and questioned him so closely that 
he would not take an oath that he knew you to be really as you 
were supposed to he an octoroon. This gave me some encourage- 
ment, p questioned him until, to satisfy me and to relieve a guilty 
conscience, he owned to me that the real Cleo born to Aunt Kizzy 
was through his carelessness drowned in the Danube river and to 
satiate Uncle Eostund's terrible wrath he s'ltole you from your nurfee 
while traveling in Germany and presented you to him in the place 
of the child that was drowned. Aunt Kizzy agreed to and did 
raise you as her child. All the particulars; Uncle Paul will give 
you in time, sufficient to sa^-I took the articles he stole with you, 
this blanket, this little dress and most of all, this little jocket w^ith 
the two pictures in it and went to Germany with them and learned 
without a doubt that all he said was true. 

Cleo. Daddy Paul is this true? 



34 

P. True as de gospel of de Lo4*d. 

C. And Mammy Kizzj" was not my own mother. How strange 
it all seems. Well what of my real parents, Mr. Galbraith? 

Gr. Your parents are of the German gentry. Count Frederick 
your father and Countess Theressa your mother. Your mother is 
dead, and your father still lives. 

C. Mr. Galbraith 1 am unable to express my gratitude, my feel- 
ing. Leave me to myself, let me think. 

G. What I have done is all I could, but it is little compared to 
what! ask in return. But I shall hope that you will think of me 
kindly and all I have done. 

C. I shall indeed. 

G. Thank you dear Cleo. Good morning, I shall call again 
this evening, I hope you will not think me too impatient. 

C. Good by. Very well I'll expect you. [Exit G. and P.] 

Cleo. Oh fool, fool, what a fool I have been to help to so de- 
ceive poor Allie Branch and then to be so deceived mj^self. [Takes 
basket of unironed clothes from closet and begins sprinkling pre- 
paratory to ironing.] I mi^ht have known that a man who could 
have been so cruel to his daughter could be no kinder to poor 
wretched me. [Some one knocks gently at the outer door. Cieo. 
listens. B. without.] 

B. Cleo/ 

C. Is that you Master Eostand. Why don't you come in ? it 
seems to me you ars unusually timid just now. 

B. [Peep.ng in.] Is Fritz, here ? 

C. No, and if he were, what's the difference? he would not ob- 
ject to your being here, and if he did isu't this my house? 

B. [Coming in.] That's true, I had not thought of it. I tried 
to intercept you before you got here, I wanted some little y^rivate 
business with you. 

C. Why don't j^ou want to come where Fritz is ? 

B. Ahem ! I know better than I can tell you. 

C. Well I shouldn't have stopped until I got home if you had 
overtaken me. What is it you want? 

B. Do you know Allie has escaped again from the asylum ? 

C. Yes I just now heard it. 

B. Well it makes things very disagreeable for me. 

C. Any more so now than on former occasions? ; 

B. Well yes, she still has an idea that this child here is hers 
and says so, so repeatedly and with such emphasis that I find that' 
it is becoming the impression of many that it is her child. 

C. Weil ? 



35 

B. Cleo somethinf)^ must be clone. 

C. And as usual I must do it. Which one do you want me lo 
kill, Allie or the child ? 

B. Not/o bad as that. 

C. What then ? 

B. I have the papers here all right, all you will have to do is 
to sign your name, I will witness it. I want you to make affidav- 
it that the child is yours by birth? 

C. I would not do it to save your life, no not to save your soul 
from perdition. 

B. Be careful what j^ou say Cleo. You remember the terms of 
our contract was that you were to destro}^ the identity of the chilc^'. 
It has not been done yet. 

C. It is done as effectually as I can do it or ever will do it, 

B. It has not been done at all. Do you know what but just 
n "W transpired in this house of yours. 
0. :N'oI What? 

B. Allie came here and got the child and but that I intercepted 
her and took the the child away from her she would have escaped 
with it. She avowed it was her child, and what is stranger still 
the child declared she knew Allie was her mamanft* 

C. She did! poor thing! poor thing! and is it to this 1 put my hand. 

B. Now how easily this impression that the child is Allie's 
could be squelched if 3'ou would but swear that the child is yours. 

C. You heard what I said ? 

B. But that can't be final? 

C. As final as the day of judgment. You hear me ? 

B. Then you must consider our engagement broken. 

C. [Laughs derisively.] Our engagement ? 

B. Yes, our engagment! 

C. Which one, you know we have two? One that I'm to do 
your clear starching and also that I'm to do your ironing. Now 
which one shall be cancelled ? 

B. You know whai I mean, Cleo ; unless you sign this paper 1 
shall consider myself under no obligations to be true to my oath 
to you. 

C. You are under no such obligations anyhow. You are as 
free as a crow in a corn field. 

B. Then you won't sign this paper ? 

C. I'd see you writhe in the very bowels of torment first. 

B. Then I'll make you sign it. [Arises and spreads paper out on 
the table, places ink and pen and walkes up to Cleo.] Now sign 
that paper ? 



36 

C. I won't, I won't. [B. atteTnpts to take hold of her when 
Nhe throws the water in the pan in his fiace. He steps backward 
and recovers himself from the shock of the water, then steps sud- 
denly toward her with his fist drawn to stril-ce her. GJleo coii- 
tVonts him boldly.] Strike me if you dare, you cowardly puppy I 
Strike a woman ! [B. hesitates.] 

B. [Meekly.] Cleo do you love me no more? 
, G. Love 3'ou ! Love you t I despise you ! I loath you ! Poor 
tool that I was to think you were worthy of my n.»tice. 

B. You indeed, who are you to talk to me thus. Born in slav- 
ery, where your mother writhed under the i^iaster's lash. Whose 
y^V^ fore-fathers fattened on human flesh in the wilds of Africa. 

(J. [Confronting him and shaking her fist in his face.] Y-o-u 
l-i-e ! 

B. Who was your mother but the slave woman Kiziah ? Who 
indeed was your mother ? 

C. Countess Theressa ! 

B. Ha! ha! [laughs scornfully and walks back a pace and then 
nirns and walks up to Cleo abruptly] See here Cleo, lets done 
vv'ith all this nonsence. Sign that paper! Do you hear me? 

C. [Walks and. opens the door.] There! [Points to the door.] 
Leave my house, you infamous dog ! 

B. Sign that paper or I'll choke you, [Ciitches her and chokes 
iter, and thursts her down on to her knees, as she clutches at his 
u-rists, and gasps. Fritz enters with a basket of big red apples 
;»iid seeing the situation, throws one striking Branch in the head, 
■vho releases Cleo and claps his hands to his head, while Fritz con- 
ilnues pelting him with the apples, as they race around the room.] 

F. Git oud, you youst hanta mine house like some unclean 
spirits. [Cleo stands and laughs and claps her hands as Fritz hurls 
1 le last apple at Branch, impulsingly sails the empty basket at 
< Meo, lodging it on her head, and simultaneously he grabs up first 
IVs cloak and then his hat and hurls them at him as he escapes 
1 trough the window. Then he rushes at Cleo with the exclamation.] 

P.; G'eo vene agin sometime you grossed dot crooked creek jV 
vid dot mutty banks vat you been stuck in? • 

C. Shut your mouth ! 

F. I wish you youst keep dot man avay from here, I dole you. 

C. Indeed J guess I'll allow who I please to come to my house. 

F. You von'jij . / - w 

C. I will!.-, ,(.- i : .,; 

F., You shan't I tell you. 

C. I shall I tell you, there now take that. [Hits him with the 



37 

basket. Cleo cries and Fritz rushes at her but instead of hitting 
her goes on a past her,] 

F. Mine Got I'm yousr goin to busht up this partnership busi- 
ness and run a shepang of my own. 

C. Well bust up then you old fat red faced dutch man ! 

F. Confound you I vill you old shlim yaller faced nigger! 

C. [Burst into a flood of tears.] I'm not a yellow faced nigger. 

F. [Cries too.] I'm not a red faced dutchman. [Cleo sits down 
and cries.] Boo — hoo, I'm youst going to go off from here. Boo— 
hoo — so I am— rboo — hoo. [Aside smiling.] She tinks I'm in earn- 
est. Cleo, you Cleo-o-ft, I vas youst goin to leave here. [Cleo does 
not heed him.] Boo — hoo. [Cries, walks on toward the door ex- 
pecting Cleo to ask him not to go.] Boo — hoo, goot by Gleo, I'm 
going to join the regulars, boo — hoo — . 

C. Well go off and join the regulars. I hope you don't think 
I care. 

F. Boo — hoo, [cries boistrously, comes up to her and makes an 
effecting good h}\] Goot by, goot by, I vas ben goot to you and 
you vas most been goot to me, boo — hoo, you youst been evryting 
to me. my friend, my — my — sister, and mine — mine — muther in- 
laws. 

C. Mother-in-law i What do you mean,? Go off from me! 

F. I mean you vas youst goot to me like somepodies dot vasn't 
mine muthers. 

Boo — hoo, wen you hears I vas shot, [aside.] She don't kiaow 
tere vas no wars, [alond.] When you hears I vas shot you youst trop 
one little tear on my lonely grave vat no podies can't find and I vill 
forgive you, goot by. [Cleo cries.] [a side.] I vas youst a 
foolin her. I youst hide and hear vai she says wen she tinks I'm 
gone. [To C.] Veil goot by, boo — hoo, goot by Cleo. You 
shveet good angel you. [Fritz goes out, then slips in, as Cleo keeps 
on crying.) 

C. Oh dear I am so lonely I wish he would eome back, I wish 
he would come back ! I'm so lonely here without him, [aside.] Noble 
Tom Galbraith. [aloud.] I talked to harsh to him after he had been 
so kind. But I know he'll come buck again, he'll come again. 

F. (Aside.) Here dot, youst hear dot, she's comming around 
all right. 

C. (Sobbing.) He has been my hest^ best friend, and we shall 
yet live happily together. 

F. (Aside.)*^ You pet, I'd youst tie for Cleo, and youst goin to 
tell her, 

C. And Branch ! old Kostand Branch ! Bah ! I despize him ! I 



'lespise him I I could irrind his heart beneath my heal. Oh (cries) 
it frighteus me to think what a narrow escape I had. (Aside. 
^Vhat if I had married him. (\loud.) What a narrow escape, 
indeed. It frightens me to tears to think of it. (Cries.) And if 
U'hat he said be true I have no room to call Fritz dutch. Oh dear 
i wish he'd come back. (Cries. F^itz has sliped unobserved lo 
?o her back and lays his hand on her shoulder.) 

F. Tere now Cieo don't cry dot vay I vasn't goin oif to te var. 

C. (Cries aloud.) I know that you'old f.ol you that's why I aro 
I Tying. Go oif from me ! 

F. I von't done it, I von't now by golly I 

C. Go ofT from me to the array and get sfhot, 3-ou red faced 
dutchman ! 

F. I von't, I von't get shot if I go to te army, I youst lay up 
ia Some parracks, and eat and shleep and traw my pay. 

C. Well, go off from here, I say ! 

F. Vat you say you vas lonely mitoud me, and you wish I'd 
i'ome pack ? 

C. Wereyou evesdropping me, 3X)u scampfthats like you, you 
unprincipled rascal ! Lonely without you, indeed, dear me, I hope 
you didn't think I meant you, did you? AVell I didn't ! 

F. You didn't! Yell, who did you mean? You didn't mean 
■^[r. Pranch, for you said, you tespished him. 

C. Well, I declare, lonely without you! You don't know who 
you are talking to, I guess I meant Mr.' Tom. Galbraith, that's who 
I meant, a gentleman. 

F. And vasn't I! Of you tink so high of him, vat you tink of 
I'le? 

C. (Walks up to him and slaps him in the face.) Thats what 
i think of 3^ou ! (She runs to the opposite end of the room. Fritz 
;- cks up one of the apples, froin the floor and hurls it at Cleo, bare- 
..' missing Tracy, who runs in between them catching the hand of 
.'j-itz.) 

T. Oh ! I'm so pleased to find you both in such a good humor, 
'i n't let me interrupt you. Come go on petting Cleo, Fritz ! (Pulls 
i'\ who steps a step or two, nearer Cleo. Tracy then goes to Cleo, 
<•> id pulls her a step or two nearer Fritz. She goes from one to 
le other, pulhng them nearer and nearer, they approached with 
N 'eming reluctance, casting furtive glances at each other, until 
t ley are both near Tracy, who stands between them on a stool, 
which she has placed between them.) 

T. Now kiss me papa Fritz, (h« kisses her.) Now kiss me 
J.iama Cleo, (she kisses her.) Now both kiss me at once, (they hes- 



39 

itate.) Now when I say three, kiss me both at once, one-tvvo- 
quick now--three, (as she says three, she jumps back out of th 
way, and Fritz, and Cleo, kiss one another, and Tracy, runs out of 
the room.) 

F. (Shyly.) Vas dot a plunder buss, Cleo? 

C. (Modestly,) It nm«t have been a rainky buss, if you kissed 
a nigger. 

F. I didn't a kiss a nigger, I kissed a nice lady. (They are si- 
lent a moment, as Fi-itz stands looking at her.) Vat did you kisn 
Cleo? 

C. I kissed a German. 

F. Does he got some red faces and fat? 

C, Not very! Thats not so bad. 

F. Dot's a purty girl, h-ts take a leetle tance, (They waltz and 
ballance up and down the stage, and Fritz, sings snatches ot some 
German love song. They sit down.) 

F. Cleo, do you love me? 

C. Why yes, of course Fritz! 

F. * How much ? 

C. More than tongue can tell. 

F. Whoo-pe, Cleo, you make me so happy! 

C. But Fritz, I — I — only love you as a brother. (Fritz, turn8 
his back to her.) You know Fritz, I ni older than you, I could not 
love you any other wa}', could I ? 

F. I thoughtyou might — might — been my — my mothei'-in-law. 

C. Ha! ha! say Fritz, what did you get so mad at me lor, atter 
you liad run old man Rostand away ? 

F. Yhot you don't stay avay from some places quicker, and 
been home sooner? Ten vat you vants mitold Pranch, ven I youst 
trove him oud of my house, a vile ago, ven he tried to steal Tracy? 

C. I came as quick as I could, but I had not seen Master Ros- 
tand, he came here. 

F. Say Cleo, vasn't you stuck on that shanks yet ? 

C. Stuck on him, no, I despise him ! 

F. Tat vas that about you and Mr. Galbrath, vat you vas 
Hohloquizing? 

C. (Embarrassed.) Oh! don't ask me Fritz! 

F. Oh! now Cleo! 

C. Well, you don't care do you? 

F. Don't care for what? 

C. Well — well, Fritz we're engaged, Mr. Galbraith, and me. 

F. Vat vas dot, vas you and him goin into some business to- 
gether? 



40 

C. Well, yes we are going to get married. And oh ! Fritz, I'll 
have such a fine elegant house, to live in, tor you know Mr. Gal- 
brath, is a very wealthy man. 

F. I thought of he don't married his cousin Allie, he don't 
sotoethings got ? 

C Yes, but Allie's going insane did away with all that, and 
now he comes into posession of everything, and I shall be mistress 
Off Galbrath Hall, just think of that Fritz, won't that be splendid, 
lam just delighted. I can scarcely realize it, that elegant stone 
mansion, with its stately columns, wide h-iUs and beautiful draw- 
ing rooms. Oh! Frits, I'm just wild with ecstacy. [Frits, don't 
seem pleased.] Why Frits, why don't you rejoice with, me ? Aren't 
you glad ? 

F. Nine, uine. • 

C. Now, Frits, don't be selfish, and envious. I'm tired of being 
90 poor. 

F. You youst might have waited to left me, ven Tracy was 
been bigger, 1 vish I'd gone one to the regulars, where I started. 

C. You never started, you old goose you. Now honey, l^anfly, 
be nice and I'll tell you what I'll do. 

F. Yat you done? 

C. Dont you remember once, when we were short bi^ flowers, 
lor the fair, and Mr. Galbrath, allowed us to supply our deficiency 
from the gardens up there^ don't you remember what elegant gar- 
dens they had there, only they were very much out of repair, and 
unkept, Well I'll get Mr. Galbrath, to allow 3'ou to take charge of 
the Galbrath gardens and orchards, and what a delightful occupa- 
tion that will be, and Tracy, and you and I can all be togetlier 
still. Just think of it. 

F. Got pless you Cleo, you vas a w^hole apple cart, you vas so 
shveet. Hootsy cootsy pootsy. [Chuckles her under the chin.] 

C. Oh ! you might know I would not sejiarate from you, as long 
as we have been together. 

F. And Tracy vill be tere do! 

C Yes, and you ! 

F. Yes, and you ! 

C. And Tracy too ! 

F. Yes, and me do ! 

C. Yes, and I too ! 

F. Yes, all dree of us ! 

C. Yes, and all three of us ! 

F. One, do, dree, Tracy, you and me! 

C. Yes, one, two, three, Tracy, you and me ! 



41 

F. Whoopee, whoo-pee! You, Tracy, and me! 

C. Tracy, Fritz and Cleo ! 

F. Tracy, you and nio o ! 

[Durina: this dialoa^ue they dance and kiss and frolic in ecatacy, 
they seem so occupied with one another, and their prospects that 
they do not hear a knocking outside. It is repeated louder, and 
londer, for several times, until, old Miss Harriet Simmons walks 
in unobserved by them, just as they are in the act of embracing.] 

H. S. [With mock modesty.] Oh ! well, did you ever, oh ! 

F. Hello, old silver threads among the gold ! vat you vant's ! 

H. S. Oh! how shocking! Cleo, how dare you alto^v this ruf- 
fian address me in this manner, so unbecoming and f )reign to one 
in my high position? 

C. I'm out of that thing. (Goes out.) 

H. S. Oh! but stay, stay Cleo, Cleo! 

C. (From outside.) Excuse me Miss Harriet ! 

H. S. Oh ! oh ! alone with this bear, oh ! dear; what shall I do 
alone with this bear. 

F. Say vomans, you. vaa mishtookens tish vas a flower gardens; 
it vasn't a zoological gardens, unless you vas come to been te 
monkey. 

H. S. Oh! what shall I do! where can 1 escape? 

F. You forgot mighty quick, tere va.s te toor vat come in you 
at. 

H. S. [Imploring him.] Have you no mercy? Pitty a poor 
young damsel. 

F. Tid you say young? 

H. S. The dew of the morning, scarce dried from m}' lij)s! 

F. Chew of te morning? 

H. The rose bloom of spring yet fresh on my c-lieeks ! 

F. Fresh on your cheeks ? 

H. Oh! have you no heart? The lion could but tear me to 
pieces, the cannibals but eat me alive, and the — 

F. Bear could but hug you, (hugs her, she screams and falls 
almost fainting in his arms.) 

H. liy smelling salts quick, there I feel bettor. (Frits ease^ 
her down onto a sotia.) 

F. Tere now you she giratf, what for you come to te bears den. 

H. Ah ! n.»w Mr. Frit,z how can you speak of me so unkindly, 
(streches her neck,) I'm sure my neck is none to long. 

F. Oh! now Miss Harriet, how come you speke so unkindly, 
I'm sure I'm not so bear. 

H. Ha! ha! how amusing! really you are quite entertaining, 



42 

come sit down, arn't 3'ou tired Btanding? One can converse so 
much more pleasaiitl}^ when seated closely together. 

F. Dot vas true; vou can carr}- on a conversation by himself, 
he just stay as close mit hini^self as he want to. Your skiji and 
bones was purty close. But ven two wants to conwersCj and dot 
vas yon and me, it vas youst as more agreeable todon'tijenas close. 
' H. (Jam. pin-gup.) What do 3^011 mean? 

F. Oxcuse me ; noddings., nodding, I youst mean you vas some 
folder as te day you vas born. ' 

H. Skin and bones, indeed ! . ' 

F. Yah! Of'^you mean 3'ou don't got some skin and bones you 
vas in some bad fixes. 

M. S. Oh, 3^ou hush, you old heathen dutchman ! 

F. Say, old vomans, go git somcpodies to lay you avay on to 
shelf, 3^ou vas vtamag:d goods. 

H. S. Damaged! damaged! I'm not damaged. 

F. If you vasn't so damn aged, 3^00 vasn't so tam 3^oung. 

R. S. I shall tell my husband ot this insult. 

F. Your husband 'f 

H. S. Yes my husband. 

F. I dinks te oldest settlers done forgot ven 3'ou vas married. 

H. S. Elear the peddiei-! I was married but just this da3* — -Just 
tiow, 

F. Oh, I forgot cherries vas ripe. 1 guess somebody vanis to 
set up skee-crow. 

H. S. I'll pay you for 3'our impudence. I came here for ten 
baskets of flowers, and now I won t take but two, I want two 
baskets of flowei's. , 

F. Sa3', vat old man took you for a muskeeto bars — to keep to 
skeeters away 0' nights. 

H. If 3'OU mean w^ho is my husband (with a courtes3\) I am 
the 3'oung and blushing bride of Col. Eostimd Branch, Oh, Fritz, 
it was so romaintic ! You see, m3' father 

F. Before he died. 

H. He's been dead a few vears, 

F. About fifty, I think. 

H. Well, perhaps; but as I was sa3ing, he never approved of 
my manying a poor man. Well, if Mr. Branch is aristocratic, I 
think he is poor — that is, he has plent3' but not so rich as I am, 
and so — and so — 

F. You shveet leetle young goslings, whose fatter been tead 
sixt3' 3'ears, thought 3'ou'd have a runava3^ scrape, tid 3'ou? 

H. No, but I thought as papa was opposed to ray marrying a 



43 

poor man,I wai afraid if 1 deliberated something might happen to 
pursuade me not to hate him, and so when he and the squire rode 
up to call on me, and named it, I just slipped into my low-necked 
and short-sleeved dress, and had the ceremony performed r:ght 
then and there. Oh, dear, it's quite overcome me, Mr. Fritz (ef- 
fects embarrassment), and one so 3'oung will blush at such tender 
reference. Oh, I'm a bonny bride ! [Hides her face behind her 
tan.] 

F. Yhuw. Yhaw (laughs). If you vas a bride at all you vas a 
bony one. [Pulls fan away] Ten you and old Branch vas tied 
logetter, vash you ? 

H. Yes, the knot has been tied. 

F, You vas Mr. and Mrs. Branch. Your children vould been 
well ropes. 

H. Oh, how shocking you talk ! I'm just going out to the gar- 
den where Cieo is. 

F. Veil, you said you vanted ten baskets of flowers, tid you ? 

H Yes, to decorate my house with. [Exit Harriet.] 

F. Dot old duck don't shwim so veil mit dot Branch as she 
tinks. He joust got her tor her money and ven he run drough 
mit dot he 3'oust died mit old age, or run avay mit a vomaus vat 
vas better as lookin. I vonder vat made him been so sutten ? 
[Knocking.] Hello, who vash dot? Come in ! [Two officers en- 
ter.] Hello, Messrs. Come-along. [He picks up two apples from tne 
floor-] Tere vas no innocent vidows anil or])hans here for you to 
take instead of the vicked men vat you always lets git ava}*. [Toss- 
es the apples up, one after the other, catching them.] 

1st Officer. Well, see here, dutchy, don't you be so smart. We 
have come after somebody here. [Frits, not heeding, keeps on toss- 
ing the apples and dancing.] Say, is there no one here but you ? 
E Frits still igtiores him.] Say, can't you understand English ? 
Frits, without stopping dancing instantaneously, throws each of 
the two apples stri.<ingeachof the two officers who fall backwards.] 

F. Can't you understand dutch? [Laughs at them as they 
arise.] Now, vat you vants here? 

1st O. We have come to arrest somebody. 

F. Wh<»you vants to arrest? I'm not tead and 3'ou know Frits 
vas never taken alive yet. Every time they took me they took mo 
tead, 

2d O. How many times have been taken ? 

F. [Throwing apple and striking 2d officer in the stomach from 
the efl'ects of which he bends double.] There, that's twice you bei:n 
taken. 



44 

Its O. Look here, let's have done with this nonsense. We are 
the officers of the law and must be obeyed. We have come to secure 
the insane daughter ot Col. Branch, who we are informed is here in 
your residence. 

F, She is not here ; vat you tinks I want mit old Branch's lu- 
natics daughter? 

1st. O. She has some Btrange hallucination that the child, Tra- 
cy, you have here is her daughter. It is strange if she is not here, 
she was seen to come this way but just now. She is not here then ? 

F, Nine, she vasn't here ten nor now either. 

Ist. O. Well, my friend, we will be obliged to search your house 
thoroughly, otherwise we will not be discharging our duty. 

F. All right, 1 youst tole you dot whisky in te cellar has got 
sticnine in it, so you'd better not steal an3\ [The men start asif to 
search. Frits says, aside,] I dough t of soraetings. [Laughs.] I 
youst play a joke. I youst pnt em on te old man's bride. She youst 
almost as crazy as his daughter. [Aloud.] Say, look here, you fel- 
lows, vat draws your pay. vould you know dot vomans of you seen 
her? 

Ist. O. Well, the old man gave us a minute description of her; 
perhaps we might recognize her, 

F. You never have seen her? 

1st. O, No, she is described to us as being very spare, with 
hair sprinkled with gray, 

F. Vel, I said she's not here, vas-i't, but 1 Kiy now dot she has 
been here, of she vas now or not I don't know. She says she 
wanted some flowers, and she went to the garden 

2nd. O. Wh}^ didn't you tell us this at first ? 

F. Veil, you never vants to arrest no podish and 1 th ught 
may be of I help you out of this by saying she vasn't here, youM 
give me a rebate on somethings like dot, but ven I saw you vas 
goin to search, I thought I youst" save you te troubles, I youst 
call her. (Aside.) Dots purty good. (Goes to the door, then turns 
back.) Say, you fellows vat talks to the servant girl in the back 
gate, vile the rogue gets away out te front. Say, tis vomans 
has another hell-of-a- loose-notion, or what ever you call it. 

O. Hallucination. What is it? 

F. Veil, it vas a hell of a loose nation, vat got you to do cus 
todian business, but say, tish vomans has a notion vat she will tell 
you, dot is she says she is Col. Branch's bride, his wife. [Goes out.] 

1st. O. That's it, that's what he said she'd say, she thinks she 
is Branch's wife. 

2nd. O. Strange isn't it? What else did he say of her? 



45 

Ist. 0. In accordance with the notion that she is Col. Branch's 
bride, she insists on wearing on all occasions an evening drees. 

2nd. O. He said also, that she insists on coming to this vender 
of flowers, for flowers to adorn the brides chamber. 

Ist. O. Says also, she Is very tall like himself and although 
not natuially so has become very much emaciated, and looks much 
older than she really is. 

2nd. O. Insists also, that Squire Jones, performed her mar- 
riage ceremony. 

F. (Enters laughing.) Here spring chicken, heie are the gen- 
tlemens vat wants to see you safe home. 

H. Oh, ah, strangers ! Oh, ah, I — I thought it was my dear 
husband and the squire. 

Both Officers. Tisshe! lis she! 

1st. O. The slender form, the gray hair. 

2nd. O. The evening dress, the plain gold ring. 

F. There does dot fill te bill of tescription? 

Both O. Exactly! 

F. [To H.] Say, spring beauty, these trentleman vant's to see 
you sate home, to tere shveet by and by. They say you vas clean 
gone on te rid side out of your head. Gentleman, she vas crazy as a 
ped bug. 

H. How dare you so traduce the name of the bride of the 
emincRt, worthy Col. Br nch. [Slaps Fritz in the face and the 
first officer la^'s his hand on her shoulder. 

Ist. O. I am very sorry it is necessary madam, but I must con- 
firm w^hat the man says. We have come to conduct you to the 
asylum trum whence we know you to have escaped. We know 
you to be Col. Braiich's daughter Allie. 

H. [Screams.] Oh, 'tis false! 'tis false! I am Col. Branch's 
bride of half an hour! oh, how dare you ! 

F. Oh, 3'es, of you dont call me a bear a vile ago, j'ou could 
proves dot by me. 

H. [Attempting to free herself.] Unhand me I say! unhand 
me! oh, you wretches! 

1st. O. Be quiet lady, we shall not hurt you. You, father re- 
quests us to place 3*011 in the carriage awaiting outside. 

H. My fither! who? when? my father? why viilian, my 
father's been dead these sixty years and better! 

F. And te morning dews vasn't tried off 3'our lips yet. 

H. Oh, to be so humilliated and I a bride ! 

1st O. How like the desription. 

2nd. O. Everything verified. * 



46 

F. [Laughs.] Veil, goot tay you gentlerhans, vat was never 
on a beat; goot tay gentle Allie. [Aside, as he goes out.] Dot vas 
a pretty rough joke. I guess she's tough enough to bear it. She'll 
have plenty oi goot satisfaction to pa}^ for it, vhen they dakes her 
to her new husband. I youst tinks,. Branch vill rare and shvare 
vhen he sees they have caught the wr )ng bird. [Exit ] 

1st. O. Come lady, you shall confront Mr. Branch, and if he 
says you are his bride and not his daughter, you shall be free to 
go to his arms. 

H. Free to go to his arms! oh, ecstatic dream. [They lead her 
toward the door.] 

2nd. O. Why here is Col. Branch, and the squire now. 

1st. O. Indeed it is true. [S'hey enter.] 

H. [Frees herself and rushes wildly at Branch ] Oh, my hus- 
band ! my darling! [B. steps back and coldly warns her oif.] Oh, 
do not be oifended at finding me in the compan}- of these men. 
I eould not help it, could I Fritz? Fritz! (calls, but B. remains 
stolid.) Am I not your wife ? Did you not but just kis.-? my maiden 
lips? Am I not still your sweet young wife? (B. shakes his head 
and she screams, then turning to Jones.) Squire Jones, did you 
not but just this hour pronounce us man and wife? 

Squire. I did not. 

H. (Screams.) Oh, what cruel jest is this! oh, my husband, 
my darling, is this not my wedding ring? scarce warm upon my 
finger yet, since placed there from your cold, cold hands. (Takes 
off ring.) See, the inscription, "Rostand Branch, to his bonny 
bride," Who is your bonny bride but me? 

B. You see, it is as I told you, you must away with her. You 
see the squire refutes what she says, and anyone will tell you I 
have been a widower these last ten years, and 'tis well known to 
all, the sad, sad tale of my demented daughter, so take her away. 

Ist. O. We understand. Here madam ! 

H. (Falling on her knees before Branch.) Am I so soon tor- 
saken 1 Oh, my husband, mj^ precious, precious husband! Have 
you no mercy ? 

B. Away with her I say; are you not officers of the law ? Is it 
not as I told you ? why hesitate ? 

1st. O. Come woman, we can but do our duty. [They assist 
her to arise.] 

H. [With out-stretched arms she makes one last appeal to 
Branch J Am I not your wife? 

B. ^o! [She faints and falls in the arras of the officers, who 
bear her off.J 



47 

Squire. Ee.-^i member Colonel, for mj^ part in this dirty busi- 
ness, 1 am to have one-fourth o. the woman's fortune. 

B. Don't anticipate the thit.g is not consummated yet. 

Sqr. \Yell I Just wished to remind you of what part is mine, 
and you had better see that I fi^et it. 

B. I need no reminder, I shall not forget a thing so painful to 
me. [With a sneering laugh;] That one-fourth my wile's for- 
tune must go to the man that made us man and wife. 

Sqr. A big fee. enough. Bat you can hiugh as haughtily as you 
please, but you'd better see that I get my share. 

B. Hold your peace. 

Sqr. That's what I want to do — my piece of Miss Harriet's for- 
tune. You'd belter help me to it, too. 

B. Be still; threats are quite out of place. Mrs. Branch's fortune 
is fifty thousand dollars. The fourth of it is twelve and a half — 
your life to ma, who can take ir, is hotr worth that sum. (Exeunt, 
enters F. and C.] * 

C. I am afraid, Fritz, to have your everlasting joke^ ^'ou have 
go.'ie too far this time. Its" my Vipinion you have lent your hand 
lu soMiethihg not straight. Col. Branch is, you know, mean enough 
to do anvihiVig. 

T. Vat you dink,-? 

C. AVell, I believe he married Miss H rriet for her fortune, and 
then to get rid of iier purpose 'y sent her off to an insane asylum as 
hi>s daughter. 
> ■ F. Vat uiakes you dinks dot. 

C. Listen. Branch has iitterally nothing. Miss Harriett has 
titty thousan<l duUiirs. It has become proverbial, and that fifty 
thousand dolhirs is an attachee of Miss Harriet's, as well under- 
stood as her long nose. Old master has told me repeatedly be 
conhl not bear the idea of living with her, but coveted her f>rtune. 

F. Yes, but be, has .a lunatic daughter and she is out, for she was 
here to-day. 

C. C»-rtainly : but Frits, Miss Harriet told me CoL Branch told 
her that Allie was.-^aieiy confined in one of his second story rooms; 
that he had concluded rot to send her back to the asylum, and his 
reason for the hasty wedding was because the officers in pursuit of 
Allie would soon be here and he wanted her safely ensconced in 
his house, and wanted Miss Harriet to assist him in taking charge 
of his additional duties, and to make it appear Allie were rightly 
situated, that the men might not insist on taking her back. She 
consented, and he sent her post haste after the flowers. That wae 
a pretext, I think. 



48 

F. Who would a thought dot Branch vas as deeper as dot ? Bat 
vhen a branch was so rautty you couldn't tell of he vaa deep or 
shallow. 

C. Well, Fritz, you must see to this, and if there has been any 
crime perpetrated you must help hunt it out and see that the 
criminals are properly dealt with, 

F. Dot I will, <jrleo ; dot Prarich vas purty dirty, but of he vas 
deep or shallow I wades him this time. 

C. Well, go for Tracy while 1 prepare dinner. (Exit F.) Poor 
Miss Harriet, to be go foully dealt with. Her portion ia jnuch worse 
than mine. One can scarcely help wishing such fiends in hell, 
where they belong. Old Rostand has no idea of leaving Allie at 
home. He will simply keep her here until Miss Harriet is safely 
confined. To the people about here and those connected with Miss 
Harriet's property, he is her husband ; to the asylum folks, he is 
not her husband. Old Squire Jones is to testify each way, as the 
occasion requires. [Enters Fritz and Jfracy, both hands joined and 
swinging r round and round, singing "Ring around a rosy, bottle 
full o' posy." Cleo places a few dishes on the table from the clo- 
set, arranges a large boquet in middle of table ; Frits and Tracy 
waltz about until Cleo has the table prepared.] Come, the feast 
is made ready. [Fritz swings Tracy into a high chair and places 
her at the table oack; Frits and Cleo sit at opposite ends; with 
bowed heads; Fritz proceeds with the blessing.] 

F. Our Fatter, vat vas in he.aven and everywhere else ai' at 
once and te same times ; vat has been living all tish time and vas 
youst the same age yet; vat vas fatter to everybody else as yell as 
te dutchman. Ye don't got nodings but ve thank Thee dot it vag 
good enough vat there vas of it, and plenty of it, sich as vas. Bless 
Cleo, bless Tracy, and don't forgot Fritz, forever and ever for 
Christ's sake. Amen. [Curtain.] 



ACT III. 

(Eleven Years Later.) 

Scene — A large splendid drawing-room at Galbraith Hall, open- 
ing into a conservatory back — Cleo, now an elegant matron, re- 
clining near one end of stage beside a center-table, on which stands 
a vase with a faded boquet, and a glass of wine. A little boy and 



49 

a twelve year old colored girl are just completing an immense tow- 
er of blocks. The topinest block is placed. 

Tommy. Look mama isn't it beautiful ? 

C. Yes, Tommy, my son, you are quite a skillful builder. 
(Goes on reading.) 

T. Let's catcli hands and skip round it, Mary Lucy. (They 
join hands and skip round the tower as Fritz appears from conser- 
vatory with a brbad grin on his face, and a large boquet in his 
hand.) 

F. The last rose of summer. (Strikes his breast.) Dot vas me. 
(Walks up to table and observes Cleo closely, drinks the wine from 
the glass, removes the faded buquet and fills wine glass with water 
from vase.) Dot vas to Vice President ot the C. AY. T. U. 
(Points to C. who reaches for tne glass and unconsciously sips the 
water, and makes becoming ado about it. Fritz laughs, places the 
boquet in vase, stands looking at Cleo a moment then throws the 
faded boquet, knocking her paper from her hands.) 

C. Oil, Fritz, do be more dignified. When will you ever learn 
to be a man ? I declare you are just like you were when I first 
knew 3'oii. 

F. You vasn't just like you vere when I first knew you. 

C. Why^ Fritz; have I changed materiall}^ ? 

F. Y^ou may been to same material, but you vas changed. 

C. How, Fritz, I am older I know than I was then? 

F. In tem days youth vasn't your only crime. 

C. What can you mean ? 

F. Oxcuse me, you vas a neegar then, and now you vas a white 
lady. 

0. Oh Fritz, Fritz, how can you be so rude and unkind. 
(Picks up paper, in the meantime Tommy and Mary Lucy have 
quit ski^^ping around the blocks and as M. L. pats, Tommy dances. 
Frits looks at him and begins dancing about the room. Cleo reads. 
Fritz purposely dances to the block tower, kicks it, scattering the 
blocks.) , 

T. Aw now, mam«)8look what uncle Fritz has done. (Fritz 
'snatches Tommy up and dances out of the room with him.) 

C. Mary Lucy, pick up the blocks, quick. 

M. L. Yes'm. [Throws the blocks hurriedly into the box and 
Frits dances in and up to M. L., running her out of the room, then 
turns and walks to Cleo.] 

F. Now, Gleo, vot vash dot you vas been goin to tole me ? I 
youst pelieves you vas tryin to shlip cud of it. You von't talk to 
me all te time some times, like you used to in te cottage. 



50 

C. Yes, I do ; I see you every day., 

F. So tid Mose.s see to prom^s^d land, but he tid not get to it. 
all te same. Seeing me vna not spoken mit me. Vat with M^r. Gal- 
hrath and te scrvc^nts and tein chiidrou yousi been next to you all 
te time, till I don't spoke to you not much. 

C. Well, I am all attention, Frits; what is it? 

F. Vat is it? You know it i.-s vat, Gleo. 

C. No J. don't, reall}'. What is it y^u wish me to tell you? Sit 
down, Fi-itz. 

F. You been promising to toie me all vot I vants to know about 
Tracy. 

C. What good would that do you, Fi-itz? Tracy has promised 
to marry you; is not that satisfactory ? 

F. [Lauglis.] Beat study, b}' jirks, mine heart. [Strikes his 
left breast.] To been Tracy's husband vould been enough to satis- 
1y any bodies, but you don't kill me oif mit dot gun, even if I vas 
a goin' to marry Tracy — a man can't f..und oud too much dot vas 
true about d^t vomans dat vas going to took him. for better as 
worse as he vas. 

C That's onito true; hut how much better could a man know 
his promi.^ed wile than you do Tracy? 

F. As much better as 3'ou know her as 1 know her, I youst 
vants to know who she vas. You said her mother vas rich and ve 
vould got it when her mother died. 

C. Well, Fritz, I am surprised. Are you so mercenary as that? 
I don't want any of Tracy's money were she to get it, and if you 
marry her and she does get it all 3'ou need not complain. 

F. I youst vants to know boud it myself. Of I axes you some 
questions vould j^ou shpoke mit me straight? 

C If I speak at all. 

F. Veil, ten, do you know who vash Tracy's parents ? 

C. I do. 

F. Vash le dead yet, y.;U8t now? 

C. They are not. 

F. Vash her fatter and mutter living togetter now ? 

C. I understand they are. ^i" * 

F. You understand ? Who dole you, vas they been in this neigh- 
borhood now ? 

C. No, they are not here now. I know of them, as my hus- 
band, Mr Tom Ganbraith, has from time to time gotten letters 
from Tracy's father. 

F. Gleo, you vas don't say dot ! Vas I don't never seen him ? 

C. Yes he has been here at our house since Tom and I were married 



5i 

F. GUo! ■\VliOO])oe! \Vho vf.s <)ot ? 

C. Fritz, if I tell yoii who nre lior parents will it make any dif- 
leroiice in your afiains? 

F. Nine — I shwore. 

C. Well, cio you remember an officer m tlie Feiieral army <«n 
the General's staff that had h\< Iieadqiiarters at Col. Branch's 
house, by the name of McGrc.f^or? 

F. Dot man vat I s]ili])s in te crape myrtle bushes and h^^ vas 
kissin' you like five-hundred, and you said vat made you done it 
vas because you lavored te union so. 

C. Yes, hen the one. 

F. I tole you, vasn't you kis-^in' hini fnr Al)e. Ldicoln. 

C. Ycs, you re;Memb(;r the man then. Well tiiat man's Tracy's 
father. 

F. Yas Tracy, a little yankee? 

C. Evidently, on lu-r tathei''8 side. 

F. Look here C\ (\ vas you been Tracy's jno'ii^T? 

C. Ha, ha, no indeed., didn't 1 tidl you I whs of tlie iinr-res^ion 
Tracy's ].)arents wci-e livins: toijcet! er ? No F'lutz, I am not the only 
woman McGreiror kissed while the yankev- i;-eneral and his staff 
were quartered in our liouso. 

F. Did Col. McGreinir kiss Tracy's mother while he was qmn- 
tered at Branch's? 

C. 1 don't know, I (j;ue:ss so. Now don't iiU"i'>]> at conclusio'is 
too hastily, Tracy's pa'cnts were marrie ! in I^ahimore. Maryftn !. 

F. I'ay vhs, oh. veil, I vas 3'oust rJj(jud t«» sr.rmis;^ sn]nctin;:s 
else. 

('. Wiiat did you suryiiise? 

F. Yell, she is of a iiio -d fa\n\\y of she did vent c-azy. I do'c 
you Cleo, I thouL';ht you vas i^oin' to say Allie Brancii was Tr.icv's 
muther. 

C. Well, wliat if L had. 8Iie was such a :AVtv>t little womnn b<»- 
fore she became insane, and evervbody adiniretl her and love ] he:\ 
What if Tracy is A llie's child? 

F. Yell, T dole you now Cleo, t' e vay T yonst seeii her charii-'- 
beyonetts then back and come a/.;;'.!.!. Veii. I youst been lieai'd 
])eoples say s e.netiiint^s about mothersiadavv, but it slie bc;en 
Trac^^'s mother and Tracy been my wife, ten I eot some muther- 
-i?idaws right from vere te git'em hand made. 

I C. Don't speak so disrespectfully of Mrs. Mc(r!'egor, Fr]tz, i'.i 
niy presence, \^''bether -he is Tracy's motner or not, she was m\' 
only and constant playmate in childhood, and furth.er more she i-< 
my dear husband's first cousin. 



52 

F. Dot vas true, I vonder how that come? 

C. AUie's mother was a Galbraith, Tom's father's sister. Allie's 
name is Alwilda Galbraith Branch. It is strange Tom's aunt 
should have married Col. Branch. The family were all opposed to 
it. But he went to the Mexican war and exerted himself as a sol- 
dier to reflect credit on himself and he succeeded in gaining quite 
a reputation for bravery and soldierly bearing and he being much 
better looking then than he is now, her father consented thinU- 
ing he'd remain in the arm^^ after the war and thus necessarily bt; 
from home a great deal. But no sooner were the Mexicans con- 
quered, than the young Colonel resigned and came home lo Plan- 
tation life. Seeing he could do nothing but succumb to the in- 
evitable, grandfather Galbraith deeded to her the Yiew Mount 
plantation, which she owned until h<^r death and wiiich is now AUie's. 

F. And dot vas te fortune you spoke of dot vould been Tracy's 
ven she comed of age. 

C. I hav'ut said Allie was Tracy's mother. But in addition 
to the View^ Mout? x lantation, at the death of the senior Gal- 
braith, there was a legacy of several thousand dollars left to Allie, 
which is still untouched and drawing interest. My husband, and 
not AUie's father, is custodian )f that. 

F. And then all dot raving about '-my child, my child," dot 
crazy vomans put to her hearers, vas not all for noddiugs. 

C. Allie is not crazy, they say now. Since she tound her hus- 
band her mind has been entirely restored, so I have under- 
stood. The last time I saw her she was convalescent but not en- 
tirely recovered. 

F. Didn't you told me Capt. McGregor and Miss Branch, were 
married in Richmond? 

C. No, I did not tell you Fritz, but I will tell j'ou all about if, 
if you'll promise to keep the secret. Ii's something 1 never have 
told my husband. I think sometimes I ought to tell it, and thei\ I 
don't know what might come of it and if AUie's reconciled with- 
out her child, I am sure Tracy's happy as can be. 

F. Nine, of dot crazy vomans been ni}' mother-in-laws, don't 
you let it get away, you keeps him Dot vould been a secrets be- 
tween you and me. Tell me about it Cleo, all about dot match 
team of runaways, I w^ant to know all about Tracy's decendants 
anyway. 

C. AnaeeP.tap s you mean. Well, I'll tell you, and what comes 
of it concerns you, as Trac^^'s husband more than it will me. 

F. Tell, proceed, I youst itemize. (Takes pencil and paper 
from his pocket.) 



53 

C. Oh, that's not neces.-iary, [Takes poiiei :iii.l paper Cvi)\n ]\\ni.'] 
It's a short sior}-; McGregor, uiifl Allie .L';ot in love and as Cglonel 
Branch, of course they knew would op > se it, they (li<l not. think 
of anythinu^ but a clandestine^ affair and under pi-etene-^ of iijoinic 
to school in Baltimore, Allie, went theriUo live ostenciblyly with 
her aunt, the Colonel's sister. They mai-ried thei-e or soinew'he!-*'. 
but Aunt Elmira died. Capt. Me(;ri*e5;or wvtit on wi..! t 



!'(! 



was taken prisoner it seems and Allie, fo.-saken by rveryl^ody ap- 
parently, soui^ht refuge in a Catholic flospitai, where Tracy wa-< 
born and where she was^when her ht\\ •)• fnini;! h<.r. Covni's-.r o i 
home stopping to recuperate at Blue Moinitaiii ]T<)ine, th.cy left 
the baby there, to all intents and purp »ses. But delurjitin- Al!i<' 
into believing the child dead. Col. Bra ich broni>-ht it lo nie to 
raise. You know the rest, he had just i;-iveii it to nic wh«Mi you 
came up that time at the olu hollow tree 

F. Vat vas old Branch want te baby out of tlie vay. 

C. Because it was always intended Allie and my Tom s'nriuld 
marry, and Allie's father, thinking-it would !)e a hindrance, tried to 
squelch the whole tiiinu', Allie was not su])])Osed to have l»e<Mi 
married at all, and wiien after the war Capt. McGreii-or canie 
through Baltimore liuniing his wife, her r-e!atives who h:ivc no in 
tercourse with the GalbraitlKs, told him she w;;s dead, and no Oiic 
knew just how the thing was until Allie's farhej- who eouli in no 
way get access to any other money, beiiig so reduced financially. 
and as Allie seeme I hopelessly insan^^, and Toin had mari-icd n.e. 
and as from all apj) 'ai'anc s livug ue it of act-, in t'l ^ cas > c-ou' I 
do no harm, the old man bethought himself to I'eap some licie^t 
from his daughter's alliance with the X^nion soJ(iii'i', uuA soiiglt 
thereby to i-eplenish his inij)ovL'i'ished exehe{{in,'r, and ])ro('(:'e<led lo 
introduce measures to obtain a pension for his darii;'h«-r. Tnit lo 
and behold ! When the regiment }ind company of tl'.o. missing hus- 
band was given and evidence l)rona:ht forward, Caj)t. .\[cGi'cgoi' 
was discovered to be still living — Captain iio longei', but Major in 
the standing array, located in the \V\'st somewJi.ere. The wliol- 
proceeding resulted in his coming on to claim his wife. But ]")oo:-, 
poor man, his heart was most brol-ien anew to find ijer so deranged. 
But I have Understood that the, sight of him recalled her to.h.ej'selt 
sufficiently to give the phj'sicians some hopes of her- ultitpate, com- 
plete restoration of mind. ITow complete this cure has beqn.I do; 
not know. S\w left here in comj)any with her husband, ai^fij a 
special physician and I trust she- is entirely hei'self again. I :have 
never seen her since she went away, iler husband got. leave of 
absence for six months and thc}^ traveled a good deal, but when 



54 

they returned to the army by way ofYiewMountI was not 
here and did not see her. But we shall soon see her. Col. Branch 
expected them home last night, and if they come, as the house at 
View Mount and the furnishiui^ are out of repair and as they will 
^not want to replenish it for so short a time as they will si'dy, they 
will stay with us here. Tom has gone over this morninor to con- 
duct them here, and you shall see who is to be your mather-in-law. 

F. But you don't let him got away. 

C. But remember Fritz, before Allie's mind became disordered 
there was never a nicer, sweeter, more lovel}' creature than she 
was, and she is just. such novv, I hope if she is herself again. (Al- 
lie enters, apparently as crazy as ever, mumbling something in- 
audibly.) 

F. (Pointing to her.) And I dinks she va^ by golly. 

C. Poor, poor thing. 

F. Dot vas to been mj' mother-in-laws. Gleo dot vas a white 
headed lie you told me bout that vonians been made some sense. 

C. Yes, but you promised it should make no difference with 
3^our affairs and Tracy, and you 

A. (Who has hesitatingly drawn near them) Good — good peo- 
ple-»-I — I — oh — sweet lady— I — oh kind sir — have you— have you 
seen — have you seen a little — a little child to-day — a little bit of a 
baby girl — that looks like me? 

F. Dot vas a funny gray haired baby vat looks like you. 

A- I'm — I'm its mother, I — I — [Laughs and cries and sings.] 

I kissed ber to sleep last night, last night, 

I kissed her to sleep last night, 
And laid her down m her trundle bed. 

All curtained and soft and white, 
My vigils I kept but then I slept, 

Alas ! till the dewy dawn, 
And when I awoke and sought my child, 

They'd stole her away— she was gone, she was gone, 

Yes, they stole her away, and I'm — I'n\ so lonely. Yuu haven't 
seen her — my bab}^ girl? Here is a wee little dress, I took it off 
her myself Just before I kissed^kissed her to sleep. Oh, precious 
rag (kisses it) that wrapped my pretty, pretty child. Have y. u 
seen a lost child to-day that this would fit? 

C. [Eeaching for it.] Let me see it Allie? 

A. [Snatching it back and holding it closely.] Oh ! no, no, no, 
do not take it away ! 'tis all I have — except this, this little siippcr^ 
oh, angel feet th. t wore this dainty thing — that pressed this little 



55 

sole, oh, precious pretty tlung ! [Kisses the slipper.] See it is 
worn some on the toe. [Laughs and cries insanelj''.] Oh, where ! 
oh, where is my chihL my child ! [\Yalks across the stage.] 

F. i.>ot vas to shveet, nice, lovely creature dot vas to been my 
mother-in laws. 

C. Hush Fritz, do be more human^that breaks my heart. 

F. Yell, don't divulge, you promised not to tell. [Allie stands 
with her back half turnedto them, looking at them out of the cor- 
ners of her eyes and listening iutently.] 

C. I did, I know. But I do feel dreadful Fritz, for the parti 
have pla^'ed and am still playing in this affair. 

F. You hear that now ! Yell, if j'ou told I am off to the reg- 
ulars. 

C. ; Yes, and right there is where Allie, with her husband, be- 
longs. 

F. Den I'd plow the mighty deep before I face a mother-in - 
laws like dot. 

C. Well, I won't, I won't ! 

A. Sings : 

Oh! where, oh, where is my sweet little babe, 

My sweet little babe so fair? 
So chubby and round and dimpled her face, 

With her blue eyes and golden hair. 

C. Oh ! Fritz, Fritz, this is terrible ! 
F. But don't you let it get avay. 
A. [Sings again :] 

I scarce knew sue was mine so little was she, 

She never knew I was her mother, 
Until she was stolen away from me, 

Was stolen and given to another. 

C. What harm could it be for me to let her know who and 
where her child is? [Allie listens intently unobserved by C. & F.] 

F. Nine, j^ou said you wouldn't let dot secrets git out from 
twixth you and me. 

C. Well, God pity me! 

A. (Aside.) Ah! thank heaven I know who knoics where my child 
is. (Coming back.) Oh! sweet, sweet lady where is my child? 
G-ood, good sir, where is my child? Sweet lovely creature, oh, my 
precious, precious ba.be. You haven't seen her then, (cries,) oh, 
I'm so sorr^', I thought you had seen her, good bye sweet lady, 
good bye kind sir. If you see a lost child who could wear this 



56 

little drei^s an (1 this diiinty shoe, remember she's mine, my own, 
iny own sweet babe, i^oo-i Uye, good bye. 

'F. Goot pye, .i^oot pye. (a^ide) G-oot pye, goot pye, of you 
said good h3'e vy don't you go? Of you vasn't going vat for you 
said good bye? 

A. [Appealing to Cle >.] Good, good sweet lady where is my 
ehild? [C. drops into a chidr and covers her face, with her hands 
and AUie moves slowly off t! e stage singing : 
r kfssed her to sh ep L^st nierht, &c. 

C. Fritz, this is terrible, unbearable. 

F. But don't let it get a\ay. 

C. I feel I can never get forgiveness for what T have done/Uu- 
less I tell her who and where her child is. 

F. Dot vould break your vord aiid I am off to the ocean 'plue 
and'Tracy vas f n "unmarried vidow before I'd face dot mother in- 
laws. Go id b^^e I'm going out to te garden. [Goes out but hides 
wl 



lere audience can see him.] 

A. [Enters and sings and watches Cleo. 



"My vigils I kept but then T slept, 

Alas! till the dewy'dawn. 
^Xlid When I awoke I sought my child, 

They'd stole her away, she was gone, she was gone. 

C. Oh, this is terrible it she keeps oh she'll'driveiiie distracted, 
[sits with her face in her hands.] 

A. Cleopatra Galbraith, look at me. [Oleo looks up and AUie 
snatches otf the disheveb i wig and torn outer garments and 
stands before Cleo a sane Woriiah well dressed b'ut gray headed, 
Cleo screams and hidc^s her face again.] Behokl your victim! 
Look at this gray head and say: ^'See what I have done." Look at 
this wrinkled iace and exclaim : "This is where my fingers have 
touched." Search deeper and boast of my bioken heart: "This, this 
is where I thust my poisoned daggar." Think of my Wretched 
trained life, and hiss tbrottgirteeth that mighst well gnash mongst 
fiends in hell. "Ha! how well is my work done!" 

C. [Half lifting her head and waving her off.] Oh ! pity, 
]]>ity While you blame, mercy ! Do not curse me Allie ! 

A. [Stepping nearer ami leaning over Cleo's bent form.] What 
had I done to be so foully dealt with by her whom I might reagon- 
ably have claimed as my most fa'thful friend? When in babyhood 
We nursed together from the same mammy's 4)reast, did my infant 
finger nails inadvertently scratch fire from .your black, black eyes 
that must needs reach out and sear and scorch my life, and wither 



57 

it to nothingness? Or 3'et when hii'ger grown and in childhood we 
sported through these spacious halls, or barefooted chased butter- 
flies o'er the lawn at View Mount bj' what unlucky misshap did I 
KO fill your heart with vengeance? Or perhaps you loved the mooted 
Yankee officer, and because 3^ou could not be his angel forsooth 
you play the devil. Beciuse he, ha, ha ; he caose to love me, more 
fondly. Or oh Cleo — Ah'dl Methinks you thought that were not 
my beaut}' spoiled my reason left undisturbed, that I mignt 
some day mistress be of stately Galbraith Hall, 

F. (Behind the scenes.) Dot vas goin to pin my mutter-in-law. 

C. Oh spare me A Hie — Mercy — Mercy. You misjudge me so ; 
3'ou do not understand. 

A. No, 1 do not understand. 

C. I am not all to blame. You yet shall know all — all. 

A. Enough of this. Cleo ichere^s my child? (Cleo rushes to the 
door and meets Tiacy, a fifteen year old miss, in the doorway, and 
turning they confront Allie.) 

C. Mother there's your child ! child, there's vour mother ! 

A. My child, my child! 

T. Mama|>pamf4«i(They embrace and Cleo goes out.) 

F. Dat vas a happy meetin. Dot vas goin to been myne vife 
and mutter-in -laws. 

T. Come sit down my mama dear. (They sit together on a sofa, 
Allie fondly carresses Tracy by every look and action of affection.) 

A.. Oh my child, my long lost darling ! 

T, (Laughingly,) Yes my precious mama honey, I am so hap- 
]>y to find you, I am happy an3^wa3', I am alwa^^s happy. Oh 
dear, ha, ha, I wonder if this unbroken unalloyed happiness I feel 
can always last, ha, ha. OA, mama I am so happj^. 

A. Well, my darling I am overjoyed myself to know you see 
so little trouble. 

T. Trouble ! so little trouble ! Mama 3'ou are mistaken, I never 
saw any trouble in m^^ life, ha, ha. Except I thought you might 
be living and of course I wanted to see 3'ou. But aside from that 
I am surem}- da3^s have been days of peace and pleasure. But, ha, 
ha, ha, just now I am particularly happ3^ Oh, dear I seem to be 
living in some blissful dream. 

A From which 3 ou may awake to grief some da3', but no I 
will not cause 3^our young heart one little grief. 

T. Oh, no 3'ou couldn't mama dear. 

A. But pray" m3^ precious darling, if a mother might have her 
daughter's confidence, what is the occasion of this ecstacy just at 
this immediate period? 



58 

T. Occasion? ha, ha, at this immediate period? ha, ha, ha. 

A. Why child you interest n^e a great deal. Do tell me why 
you are just now so happy ? You can surely confide in me? 

T. Confide in you, ha. ha, oh, certainly, why shouldn't I? 0\\ I 
dear yes, I'd confide in you, I'd tell you anything I would any- 
body else and more to but, oh, dear ha, ha, I — I — oh, I am so 
happy. (Laughs.) 

A. Oh ! ni}'- precious darling, what can so haye captivated you. 

T. What can so have captivated me. Who you mean, ha, ha, 
there now, oh dear, I've done it. 

A. Well, who can have so captivated y(m? Who my dear? 

T. Oh ; I don't know — I don't w\a,nt to tell — I — I — who? oh, 
why mama dear, you of course, why shouldn't I be captivated 
with my own real mama wdien I have found her at last. Why 
yes 3"0u mama I'm captivated with you. 

A, Do not try to deceive me my darling, j-ou cannot. 

T. Deceive you, no honey mama no indeed. You hurt my feel- 
ings, but I would tell you — what — who — 

A. Tell me darling, oh, you sweet, sweet dear what is it so in- 
terests you? * >♦ 

T. Oh; dear mama honey I'm — I'm — ha, ha, [laughs and turns 
her face away,] I'm oh, dear honey mama, I'm. 

A. Yours are what my precious ? 

T. I'm — I'm — engaged! (Laughs and hides her face in her 
mother's lap.) 

A. Engaged! engaged for what? 

T. Engaged to marry, ha, ha. 

A. Oh; impossible. You are a child, my precious child. Impos- 
sible ! 

T. No it isn't impossible, its true. 

A. Ah me, ah me, my child ! my child, I have scarcely found 
you nnd now I must lose you. 

T. Oh, no honey mama you are to live with us. Oh, dear 1 am so 
happy, ha, ha. 

A. My child, my child, Grod grant you may always remain so. 

T. Kemain so? Why yes, why shouldn't I? I'll always re- 
main 80. 

A. Who are you engaged to, my darling ? ' 

T. Oh, dear, he's the nicest fellow, oh, he's so funny — he's just 
the funniest fellow. 

A. Fellow, fellow, my dear is he a fellow, is that the way you 
speak of him ? 

T. Fellow, why to be sure he's a fellow, yes, he's my fellow. 



59 

Speak of him that whv? Why yes, to be sure, and he's oh, the 
funniest fellow. 

A Who is he ? 

T, Who is lie! Oh. dear he's so funny, he makes me laugh all 
the time, he saj's that is why I am so fat, t lauojh so much. Ha, ha — 
he's so funny, 

A. Who is he? I hope he's a very proper man, and of good 
family? 

T. Well, he may be, but I don t care, he may be common. I 
a!n in Love with him, not his family, and he's good whether they 
are or not. 

A. You don't CO rtipreh end me; I mean, I hope his is an old family. 

T. Well, I guess it's old. Thej'say he is anyway, much too old 
fc'r me. 

A. What kind of family is he of? 

T. He came of the dutch family. But don't be too impatient 
li0?iey mama, you shall see him. 

A. Be careful my child what you do. I)o you know much (»f 
this funny man you are to marry ? 

T. Ha, ha, oh, yes, 1 have a speaking acquaintance with him, 
at least I think I know him when I see him. [A side.] I guess 
Fritz thinks I ought to know him. 

A. Do not jest about such a serious matter my daughter. 80 
often such dreadful mistakes occur where the contracting parties 
have only seen one another a time or two. 

T. Well, I've seen my contracting party a half dozen times I 
think, and look here hd- .fei^niama, I guess you thought you knew 
Your business, and I know I do. Come lets walk in the con- 
servatory. [They go off the stage and Cleo enters with Fritz made 
up as a Grerman gentleman, Herr Geopper, who is followed by Fly- 
barger, a dude.] 

C. Oh, dear Herr Geopper, I am delighted to see you again. 
Welcome, welcome to my American home. 

Herr Ct Tank you, tank you Misses Clalbraith. Believe me I 
vas much bleased to see you and to see you looking so veil. 

C. Oh, yes, I am quite well I thank you, I am rarely ever sick. 
And you say my father the Count is dead, 

Herr (r. Yes madam, I vae pretty much dead already by tis!< 
time. He vas been cremated guod before I left Germany. 

C. Cremated ! oh, dear how shocking. 

H. G. Nine, he vas youst pretty much dead before they burnt 
him. Here I brought you a leetle bit of his ashes, for a geep sake 
to shleep on for good luck. 



60 

C. Oh, no, oh, dear tliis is terrible. 

H. Gr. I dole you vat you tinks vas more terrible as dot and 
ven I dole you I tinks you says he vould better as been crom»ted 
first and died afterwards. 

C. Why, what is that? 

H. Gr. Yot vas tish. He villed everthing to his son if be can 
be found. 

C. Oh, yes, that is my brother, a year or so younger than I am. 
His name I believe is Frederick, yes. Well do they know anything 
of him. When I was in Germany, his where abouts was so mOcli 
a mistery he was scarcely ever spoken of. 

G-. Dot vas true, but his fatter had a presently elft dot h« vas 
somewhere in America, and I vas sent oud here to see of I couldn't 
found him. 

C. Well, how strange I am quite of my fathers opinion, that 
if m}' brother can be tound the estate and title should be his of 
course. 

Gr. You tinks so? Yell, dot vas right, dot vas youst as well. 

C. My poor father. 1 am right sorry to learn of his death. 
But still I cannot mourn as truely as I would if I had seen more 
of him. Let's see I think thej^ said Brother Frederick, left Grer- 
many, when he was about fourteen or fifteen. 

G. Yes, dot vas sixteen years ago 'bout. 

C. Dear me he is quite a man by this time. How I should 
like to know him, and see what he is like. 

G. I tinks we can found him. But, vat ladies vas tish? [Allie 
and Tracy enter. Flybarger, has all this t^me, been setting rub- 
bing his si'k hat with a bright colored silk handkercief ] 

C. Oh, these are my dearest friends. Ladies this is Herr Greop- 
per, Mrs. McGregor, and her daughter Tracy, Herr Geopper. 

G. Ladies I vas most happy. [Allie bows coldly. But Tracy 
walks up and shakes his hand impulsively,] 

T. Her Geopper, whose Geopper? 

C. Oh, dear Tracy, how stupid of you Mr. Geopper, I mean. 

G. Yes, dot vas right I vas most velcome to see you. 

T. Well, yes I suppose so, quite welcome to make my acquaint- 
ance if mama has no objection. Indeed I think I shall be highly 
delighted with the acquaintance. In fact I am quite an admirer 
of Dutchmen. 

G. Dutchmen, fraleen? 

T* I see you are a dutchman of the regular old sort. 

G. Dutchman, fraleen, Tracy you misstookeu. 

T. Oh, no I didn't, I know what you are. You're dutch as 



61 

Rourkraut. (G. bocomes an^rvand strides up and down the room.) 
Oh, you needn't become at all dseoneertcd at beini^ called a dutch- 
man in America, that's nothing, 1 admire you for it. [ Just d()tt> 
on a bio; fat face and toe hair. 

G. Fat face and vite hair? 

T. Yes, why shouldn't I? Why, man I'm all broken]* on w. 
dutchman. I'm ij^oing to marry adutchman too. What's better'::^ 
80 don't be mad at me old fatty, I'm sure we'll get on well to- 
gether. 

G. I youst guess ve don't been together, Ahidani [to Allie] 
your daughter vas you she vasn't n»uch like. 

A. No, poor dear, she is to much of a hoiden 

T. Why, who is this? (vStepping to Flybager.) 

C. Oh, how thoughtless of me. 

G. Dot vas noddings, dot vas no deeference. [Contemptuously.] 

C. Oh, yes, Tracy that is Mr. Flybarger, Miss McGregor, Mr. 
Flybarger. 

T. Ha, ha, ha — what a name ha, ha, what a fHnny name. 

Fly. Awe yes, awe weally. 

G. He vas youst my servant. 

Fly. A^^'eyes, travelling companion, I am travelling with IVi^vr 
Geoppar. 

C. Pray be seated gentlemen. (As Flyborger, arose he sat his 
silk hat on a chair, as they sit Tracy sits down on his hat but 
arises immediately.) 

Fly. Awe — my — my hat. 

T. Ha, ha, did I sit down on your hat? Ha, ha ! 1 thought 1 
was sitting on something. I'd belter have set on your head, I'd 
bad a softer seat. 

A. Daughter, daughter. 

C. Tracy, how rude. 

A. & C. Oh that's too bad. (Fly picks up the ma-^jhed hat and 
regards it p'ttifully.) 

G. Dot vas nodings — dot vas no deeference. Mees Tracy could 
mash his hat, she could mash his heart do — hey — Fly. 

Fly.' No, awe — that's all right, you know. I beg of you don't 
mention it — (aside.) That's all the hat I've got. It took my last 
"X'' to obtain it. I lived on one meal a day for two weeks to get 
money to buy it. Now I must fast again.) Awe no, don't speak 
of it Miss Tracy. I assure you that was too utterly kind of you to 
sit down on my hat — awe, you know. 

T. Oh you old goose you ! Here let me have it, lean straight- 
en it out good as new. (Takes hat.) 



62 

Fly. Awe. thnnk yon. Such awe, kindness is unparalled, 

T.' Nolhiij,!,^ like it. 

C. Ilerr Geopper, wliile Trac}" repairs the hat please be kind 
enough to favor us with some selections of music. 

(t. Yes, mit pleasure. — I conjply mit your request. (He sings.) 

T. Here F\y, let's get from tiiia, these old dallies are too stupid 
company for 3'oung bloods like you and me. Here take my arm. 

Fly. Awe. You are too awfully gwacious — thank you. 

T. Awe now, you can't be in awnest. Ey, by. Honey mamma. 
(Throws kisses.) Go >d by, Cleo, (to Geopper,) Me love's a rover, 
old lobster. Come on, Mr. Fly for short, lets take a turn on the 
lavvn. You're too stucky for me, you need I'umpling up. iShv, by 
the wa}', did you ever horse back ride any? 

Fly. Well naw. You knaw Miss Twacy, I beg to protest. 

T. Oh 110, no danger, nothing .safer. I'll give you -old 
Hurricane," on his back you're same as in your mother's arms. 

Fly. Awe ! I .suggest a game of croquet. 

T. Ha, ha. Antediluvian Egyptian Mummy. Oh no. oh no. 

Fly. Lawn Tennis, then ! 

T. Too tame, too tame. You must have a canter - a ^/illo]>. 
You'l look plum elegant splitting the wind, on "old Hurracane." 
J>ear me, how he can scale creation. Old Hurricane went so fast 
with old Uncle Ned, he could scarcely sit his saddle, and he's a 
splendid horseman, and when old Hurricane did stop, Uncle Ned's 
breath was clean gone ; he rode so fast. Oh he's lightning as well 
as Hurricane. Oh dear, he suits me, and you'll just be carried 
».way with him. 

Fly. I have no doubt — (with a forced laugh.) I'm aJ'raid I 

T. Afraid now Fly, you ain't a coward, I know, and if you do get 
thrown, and I know you will ; but the fun of it is to see ho^y quick 
you can remount again. You can't any more than get your neck 
broken, and — well I guess you've got your life insured, its best. 
All judicious men like you, have. 

Fly. Please dear, Miss Tracy, be so gwacious as to 

T. Excuse you. Oh no, sir. I tell j'ou 3-ou'l! think your 
Tiame's Fly when old Hurricane cleaves the dusty air, with you 
swinging horizontally on to the bridle rein, two feet clear of his 
roble back. Oh, he's a hurricane right,'and thunder and light- 
ning too, and I guess you'll see fire and brimstone. 

(i Goot py, Fhd^arger, if I never see you again vat message 
s[50uld I take to your only muther. (They go out, Flybarger 
quaking with fear.) 



63 

T. Tell hiw sweetheart he4ied bravely. Ha, ba. 

Ir. Veil ladies excuse me of I press my busimiss, te sooner \ 
find ray man te bi^gerish n\y reward. He, Fie. 

C. Herr Geopper, what are the particulars conceruing my 
brother's absenting- himself from home. Mv indifference in ti.c 
matter is excusable, as I have afwjiys been alienated from them. 

G. Yell, tere vas in German}' the land vvelir, vat vas that part 
of the army dot keeps out invaders, and which every German boy 
has to serve three years, and ven young Frederick became the 
proper age for the army to Join him, ho youst made himself out of 
Germany quick. lie did not take to army Hie, and his father, te 
Couuc, always thought he came to Amei-ica. I have advertised 
extensively in te papers and in my absense from here some mail 
may come here, vich please preserve. I been back 

C. Why must you go so soon? I had much to ask you con- 
cerning my fathers affairs. 

G. Oxcuse me, fair ladies, I vill been back soon. Of you be so 
kind I leaves Flj^barger here until I return. Il he vas to been 
buried 1 pays te funeral expenses. Goot by, Mrs. McGregor, 
goot by, Mrs. Galbraith. 

Both. Good by, Herr Geopper, we hope to see you soon. (Exit 
Geopper, bowing low.) 

C. Now, AUie, friend of my childhood, friend of my youth let 
me explain. As I told you, I am not at all to blame. I have no 
hesitancy in saying that I should have had nothing to do with this 
painful matter, in fact, known nothing of it if it had'nt been foi* 
your father. 

A. My fiather ! 

C. Yes, your father. When he came to me with the child, he 
told me you thought it dead, and were becoming reconciled to the 
loss of it. 1 was poor and friendless, and he offered to remunerate 
me for ray pains, and after much deliberation 1 acquiesced. But 
let^-me tell you AUie, it was. that the child being out of the way 
your chances for becoming mistress ot Galhraith Hall might be 
rendered the more sure that I took the chi.'d, and, what is stranger 
still, it was also to establish myself as mistress of Yiew Mount a^ 
your step-mother, if you please, that I finally consented to be an 
accomplice of his in defrauding you of your child. This is the 
story, the confessiou I have to make, and I trust 1 may have your 
forgiveness. The love I ever had for Mr. Branch left me how- 
ever, the moment I Knew he had always known I was entirely 
while, and only used my supposed African tincture as a pretext 
f ^r not marrying me. 



C4 

A. My father I Cleo do\-ou t(^ me the truth ? 

C I do indeed. 

A. It is enoiii^h. You are forgiren. 

C. Ha, ha, talk of angels <Src. (Enter Branch, old and feeble.) 
(yol. Branch I have tlie honor to present to you Mrs. Major McGre- 
gor. (KxitClHO.) . 

Branch. (Old, gray and feeVjle, leaning heavily on a cane.) 
How now, my daughter? I meant to have seen you before you left 
View Mont., this morning. Army life seems to have addicted you 
10 habits of early rising, (Allie stands aloof and gives him little 
attention.) Has thj Major ai rived 3"et? 

A. Don't speak to nie. 

B. Arul why? 

A. Jt wore enough to warrant repulsion to be a fend, and 
<loi)bIy so that you have practiced your hellish deeds on me. 

B. * How so Allie. Indeed, T assure you, J understand you not. 
A. To fain dullness of apprehension, like any other coward 

W'.M-o perha])^ voiir most avaihible method of I)iding. 

P.. What have 1 done? Allie, I assure you i have done nothing. 

A. Go ask my child, grown to womanhood in do\ibt and dread, 
as to who or what her parents were robbf^d of a mothers love and 
guidance, and (Hercely,) who you stole fi-om me at th© Blue Moun- 
tain Hotel, if what y<>u have done is nothing. Go ask my noble 
husband, whose very shoes you re unworthy to blacken, if to 
>pend a lite aimless and in desol->tion. that could only be made 
ciidnrable, midst the trials ot the distaleful army life on the wild 
I'l'ontier, wliose vicissitudes and battles Avere accepted, even Avel- 
(• .med gladly, as aniidotes to a life of unspeakable misery, which 
jier chance,* happily they might put an end to. Tricked by one 
with less than halt' his sense, fooled by one who is himself doubly 
lool. rudeh' sent adrift from an affertionate wife and sweet daugh- 
tej-, bereft of tlie consolation of the one and the animated society 
ni the othcY, ask him, I say if M^hat you have done is nothings And 
i— and I, aI ho am your daughter.— J, who have spent months and 
years in a iVianiacs dungeon, chained down in a maniac's dungeon, 
ihe dampnt\ss of whose \evy walls dripping drops of poison, so un- 
known to Warmth and sunlight, forbade that moss that feeds on 
damp rocks Knd darkness should dare to st^rt there. Chained 
down in a madman's cell, wherein God's sunlight never penetra- 
led. a companion to varments that hunt a home in such a noisome 
place. Toad and .•snakes— ha, (Screams.) 1 see them now, slimy 
and green-eyed, feel them hop and crawl — ha! (screams.) Tl 
verv thought ut which most drives memadagain. And when made 



le 



G5 

deft and cunning, me thinks, by the very imps that haunt the 
abodesof wildinsanil}' I made my escape from such hideous habita- 
tion, I came away only to be ignored, shunned as an object re})ul- 
sive and loathed by those who had known me, loved me, and call- 
ed me swcL't, sweet Allie Branch. (Shaking in his face her clench- 
ed fist she hisses fiercely.) Ask me if what you have done is noth- 
ing^ ' ^ 

B, How did 3'ou learn all this objectionable conduct of mine. 

A. Lnarn ! bah ! I read it in 3^our cowardly countenance. 1 
iay you stole my child ^ you dare not say I lie. 

B. And \f I did, d^^luded girl, I only sought your good, vour 
comfort an .you knew by hiding your accomplicity with that accur- 
sed Philip McGregor. The interruptory of my favorite plans. The 
inaugurator of all this trouble and disarm ngenient of my family 
affairs. But for him you had been comfortably established as 
Tom's wife and mistress of Galbraith Hall, and View Mount had 
been left to me, a'nd Cleo apjiarently an octoroon, had been niy 
mistress, ha, naV But I could wish McGregor no worse fate than 
that he be custodian of my c.vdzy daughter. 

A. Have done with this! Retrospect if you will — pittiable old 
man. 'Tis little wonder with such a blackened past, and inaus- 
picious future. Ha, hji, dote on what might have been 'tis all 
that's left you except that 'tis to die — Ha, ha ; Go ! AHew Mortto shall 
be yours to die in. I'll go to the army with my husband, Go, then 
to View Mont':', and retrospection, cheap wine and Jiostand Bi'anch, 
ha, ha. And when old death, who stoops to kiss the vilest as well 
as the most noble, shall have blown his breath in your fac«, and 
3^ou have left but breath with which to say it — gasj) in the ear of 
your attendant this : Tell Allie, to come and close iny ej'cs- — ha, 
ha — Oo!ne I will and do it, and reinenibering that m3* mother 
loved 3^ou, I'll do it tenderlj'. (Laughing wildly she goes out.) 

B. (Stands looking at her as she goes out.) Well my i^aughtcr 
I am sorry we are ihus estranged, but if the "jShysician who })ro- 
nounced you sane is not himself somewhat demented I am. Ah 
fne, by George it were enough to have been foiled in all my most 
sangu'ntt hopes without thus peremptorily being brought to task 
for the guilty hand I playe I. That Allie knows me gudty it wore 
folly to doubt as well as that she learned it all from Gleo. True, 
too true, it is that I have lived thus ignomineously. But to be 
told 80 is not. is not comfortable. Aye, 'tis worse, 'lis galling to 
my proud spirit that thus far has dared to m}' devilish deeds and 
none has ventured to gainsay or resist me, or ques tion my mo- 
tives, But it seems 'tis come to this — That I must now be railed 



66 

at. By George I remember mj danghter's interview just now 
not pleasantly. And were I innocent I could heave a «iojh. drop 
my chin on my breast, put my hand to my throbbing brow, and — 
and dote on my misfortuues and call my^e!f' abused, falsly accused 
and say with the cj'nic — I meet no congenia! spirits ; the world 
understands me not. But being guilty — ha, ha ! What can I do 
but laugh, (laughs.) And yet to be so insolently reproached in 
such approbvious terms by one 1 have petted flii)en,ajid chided — 
oh, by George 'tis only less miserable than to be scoffed at b}' myself, 
^ot that I am thus become such a coward or perforce so valiant a 
knight ot truth that I must with clasped hands and eyes turned 
heavenw^ard exclaim : "My God my conscience hurts me !" No 
't!s not that I have tried, how or wherefore that I repent me, but 
that I have f aWed, failed. Ah ! failed. Years have come and gone 
since first m}' mother called me son, till I have known my three 
score years and ten. Yet have I not -within my heart so many bits 
of gratitude, within my head so manj^ bits of knowledge, or in my 
puree so many bits of "change." (Laughs.) By^eorge! I must, 
as says my daughter, Mrs. McGregor, to View Mont and retro- 
spection, [laughs derisively] until I die. 'Tis with me ever to wish 
others dead even tried t© kill them. Perhaps if on myself I tried my 
vicious thoughts and arts I'd prove me more successful. (Goes out.] 

(Enters Fl^^berger, in a demoralized condition, hobbling on one 
foot, TraCy follows laughing.) 

T. Hellow Fly, you are in sad plight. AYho'd thought such a 
handy looking fellow could be so af^kwsrd. That iiiva beautiful 
gait 3^ou have, jeu went out on a gallop, but tou seem to come in 
on a single foot. 

Fly. Awe, Miss Trac}^ you know you have spoiled ray beauty. 
Awe this is extweemly dissagweeable. Ouch^ — oh — excuse me Miss 
Tracy. 

T. Ha, ha, what awry fac« Fly let me arrange your twolight. 
[Toilet.] [She arranges hie collar and neektie, etc.] 

Fly. Awe Miss Tracy, you are too gwacious you know. 

T. There you look better, 1 hope you feel better ? 

Fly. Yes, awe, bettah much bettah. [Attemps to step but limps 
terribly.] Aw, this is hawyble spwain in my wight low»h' ex- 
tweemity, its hawyble dissagreeable. Old Herricane is vewj 
hawyable to fall on. 

T. Such a little man as you ha, ha. That wasn't what hurt 
your ankle. You effected your sprain by jumping up so quick 
while the horses weight was on your foot. You should have ex- 
ercised more paitence. 



67 

Flj. 'Yes, wealiy but 1 wenched it out befora I thoaght. 

T. Yes, there is nothing like presenue of mind in » case of 
emergency. 

Fly. Yes. aw, cevrtenly. But my mind persuant or not promp- 
ted me to ein#yge from uiidaw, that lawge 'orse, hrf, ha, Mins 
Tracy, that's pwetty good hey? 

T. Oh, dear what sickly wit, ha, ha, but I'm sorrj^ you're hurt, 
buti mustgooutto thegarden wiiere F'ritz is. I just dote on Fritx 
say, he's my sweetheart, don't you tejl anybody I told you, d'ye 
iiear ? Good bye, adieu — old Fly. Say, I'm sorry you're so mang- 
led up, I'm afraid you can't row on the river with me this eveniog. 

F. Aw, that would be delightful Miss Tracy, I assure you — a 
row on the wivah weath the moon's pale pensive light, aw, how 
extweemly wehveshing 

T. Yes indeed we've been wanting to rovv across just above th« 
falls its neai'er and then we'd get a different view of the scenery. 

F. Yes-aw-above the falU aw, Miss Tracy, is the watah there 
rewy wapid-aw- 

T. Oh, yes, Tery indeed that's why Fritz and I never have 
rowed there before now, we're afraid we might be washed over the 
fails. That's why I warned you to be able to row this evening, 
we'd watch you and if you went over safe we'd try it t©o. But if 
you went over the falls and got drowned w^e'd not try it. 

F. Yes, aw-yes, certainly, I aw — The misewies I suffah are 
still quite ei4|U8heating aw, I think the injuries I sustained 
while widiug will hawdly pomit of my enjoying the boat wide aw. 

T. The injuries you sustained while riding, how ridiculous, you 
mean when you stopped riding, ha, ha. But I'm sorry you got 
hurt, [goes toward the door,] ta, ta-say. Fly, don't you want to 
chew my wax til I come back ? Here. (Takes wax from her mouth. ) 

F. Aw, Miss Tracy believe me I appreciate your gwacious fa- 
vah with evwy throb of my heart. (Lays his hand on his heart 
as he puts wax in his mouth, as Tracy goes out he exclaims as he 
strides with effected dignity toward her retreating figure with out 
streched arms.) Charming pusson ! Angelic Queechaw ! (A pain 
in his ankle causes him to relapse suddenly and ungracefully into 
a chair.) Oh, dear , oh. dear my foot. (He quiets him.«5elf and 
admires the boquet, and strikes asthetic attitudes before the flow- 
ers, when suddenly verj- loud crying is heard without and Frit/, 
enters dressed as a large fat dutch girl — he cries boisterously.) 

Fly. (Aside.) Oh, deah Lod. who have we heah, what trouble 
is this Iwondah-I'U seek to know what grief so makes this pusson 
weep. I pray you pretty gull, why dost thou weep? (Fritc boo 



68 

hoo8, with renewed vigor.) Oh, peace, peace you wounded dove. 
What does so trouble you fond bweast? It bwakes my h,ot to heah 
you thus lament. Who has thus ruthlessly torn your tendah heart 
strings? Who? who could be so quel ? Come unfold to me your 
woes, you weeping willow and say who has hut yo' feeling« so? 

.■/,^-u'; Katrine. Who? who vas it dot made .jj^e cry. Who? 
Dot vas dot togoned dutch man. He youst most proke mine heart, 
boo-hoo. 

Fly. Oh, cruel wretch why could he be so, so unkind. 

K. I ton know how he could but he tid he youst said I vas'nt 
purty anyvay, boo-hoo-and dot he doa't love me any more-boo- 
hoo. 

Fly. Oh, sad, sad — it pains me hart. 

K. He youst told me he vas youst foolin mit me anyvay and 
dot he don been agoin to marry niit me no dime, dot he vas youst 
a make me pelieve. Oh, dear mine pig fat heart vas j^oust proke 
up like cappage dot vas made up into crout. Oh, tear-oo boo hoo. 

Fly. Oh, the pewfody ot a man ! But stay yo' weeping, sweet 
maid, I pray you dwy those teaws, I'll — 

K. Oh ! oh ! boo hoo-mine heart youst had an earthquvak, boo 
hoo. 

F. Pway, pway, have done with weeping my pretty gaul, oh, 
bruised weed, oh, broken stock of golden rod lift up your bowed 
head. 

K. Boo — boo -0-0-0- 

F. I pwithee cease such weeping. (Asicb.) It pains 
me heart so young, so fair, so tender, so delicately made with ah. 
Oh, me the would is quell. He was a hotless wetch that could so 
twiful with yo' teudaw feellings. 

K. I feel youst tender as any vomans. 

F. Yes, yes, I do pity you most hottily, you sweet potato dug 
too soon. Oh, pumpkiu pulled before the frosts had turned you 
yellow. Delicious wataw mellon plugged too, too green. What 
can I do to comfort 3^0 u ? 

K. Ouch ! Ouch ! Oh, tear, I feel so bate,. boo — hoo — so bate. 

F. It was a foul cwuel wetch that could thus twifle with yaw 
tendaw affections. But gwieve not loagaw I entreat you pwetty 
maid. If you want pwotection come lean on my strong arm. 

K. [Aside.] It am don't been too strong enough. 

F. If you sigh faw west come nestle yo' bonny head on my 
fond brest. [Imploringly as they step one step nearer each other.] 
Fly to my arms, to me and west thou tenderest of spring chick- 
ens. (Katrine inclines toward him.) Aw. me sweet submissive 



69 

lamb. (Katrine lets loose all holts and falls against him, under 
her weii^'ht, which is too much for him he sinks onto a sofa be- 
hind him and Katrine lays on him almost completely coverini^ 
hini. (His thin legs and arms and head are all of him that is seen 
])rotruding from under her immence form, Fly, squirms a little 
and grunts.) 

F. Ah ! Aw — this — is — us — it — should — be. [Katrine sobs.] 
Aw — Mess Katrine — I — hope you — are — comfortable. 

K. Yes, I vas youst been as comfortabler I vas could been 1 
vas on sometinti^s dot vas purty soft much. 

F. I — I — think 3'our crwief is all ovaw. m 

K. I tink your grief vas all under — [along pause in which Kat- 
rine is convulsed wi h suppressed laug-liter and Fly, quiets and 
seems to try to settle himself to assume a comfortable position.) 

K. [Aside.] I vonters of he don think I vas makin" a mashes. 
[She moves under vvhich motion Fly, scrambles and tries to adjust 
her position so as to hurt hitr less.] 

K. I youst hope Meester Flybuzzer, dot you'll soon get me 
fixed. 

F. Yes, awe ! there's no doubt but what you'll soon have me 
fixed. 

K. Dot vas a purty much help ven you vas valking in a rough 
road to have some stout sticks on vich to lean. Yat a consolation 
to dot gentler sexes dot te can be shielded and sheltered by — by te 
boosome of one strong man. (Settling hia?entire weight on Fly.) 
Oh mine Got yat a refuge is here. Vat vas vomans mit out a man 
in times of troubles ! Te mans and te vomans pelong close up 
togetter. (a long j^ause.) 

Fly. I wonder to what length this is to be continued. 

K. (Sings some G-erman melody, and dozes — sleeps.) 

Fly. [His voice almost gone.] Oh ye Gawds ! Ye Gawds ! 
If — aw — there is only to be so much suffering in this wear}- world 
of ours, in as much as ray pains awe so gwait I twust some po' 
feJlaw beings may be so small, I pwray. [K. snores loudly. Fly 
shivers and stretches out as if almost dead.] 

Tracy. [Calling outside.] Katrina-a-a ! You Katrina-a-a ! 
[Just outside.] I wonder wdiere that great gross specimen of 
Dutch womanhood can have gone to. Katrina ! [She bursts into 
the room, Katrina, half awake and dazed, partly, sits up, but Fly 
remains motionless.] Yon impudent piece o':' imj^ertiuance. Get 
up from there this minute. [Boxes her.] You great lazy hulk. 
[K. squalls and Fly moves slightly and moans. Tracy jerks K 
up.] What are you doing here in the drawing room, you great 



70 

goose ? [She discovers Fly. as K gets up.] Mr. Flybyrger, J 
am amazed ! [Fly. attempts t) sit np, but fiills back, unable to do 
so"|. Katberine, what in the name of goodness are you doing, this 
far from the kitchen ? 

K. Of you blease, Mees Tracy, I vas just passin' to the well mit 
m}' pucket for vater, ven Mr. FlybuEzer shpied me from te wiutow 
and called .me to come here. 

Fly. (Moans.) How i. m I put upon ! 'Tis false, 'tis false. 

K. You tid ! you tid ! 

T. Mr. Flyblb'ger, explain yourself, ha ! ha ! (Laughs.) A 
pretty spectacle. Katrine, leave the room. (Katrine dances out 
backward, singing. 

K. Cxoot pye, Meester Buzzinfly. I meets you to-night in te 
moon lights vhere you say me do. [Kisses her hand to him and 
goes out.] 

T. Ha! ha! It's -'Meet me h.ve in the Moon-light," 1 sup- 
pose? So Herr Geopper's traveling companion flirts with a Dutch 
servant girl. 

Fly. Ye Gowds, and must I endure all this ? Mj' deah Miss 
Twacy, I assure you this ill-bred quechaw came here of her own 
accawd. I — I — 

T. Oh, no differenc. Come on, I care nothing for yours' and 
Katrine's aifairs. [Fly. attempts to rise. His knees and toes 
turned out as if he had! been flattened out by the weight of Kath- 
rine.] 

T. Come on. [Pulls at Fly's, hand and observes how helpless 
be is.] Come on. Why, what's the matter with you ? You don't 
seem to Fly. 

F. "N"aw — I — aw — I seem to myself to be — aw — you kuaw. 1 
guess I'm pawallized. 

T. Well, come, hurry. Fly, there is a gentleman waiting to see 
you in the library. He's a messenger from Herr Geopper Hur- 
ry, and then come back and lets hear what he has to say. I ex- 
pect its something concerning this misplaced count. 

Fly. Yes, awe. Miss Twacy, with the gwatest of pleasuaw, a 
messenger from Herr Geopper, awe. 

T. Pray come, brace up Fly, 3'ou get along mighty bad. 
(They go out.) 
, [EntersMajor McGregor and Allie — Allie weeping silentl3\] 

Mc. Come my darling, my precious darling, have done with 
weeping. Y^ou'U all but make me chide you for this gloominess. 

A. I — I — yes, chidings were perhaps not undue. 

Mc. I beg your pardon. I'd sooner chide my own heart whose 



pulsinirs make me live — my own dear. But I pray you be not 80 
r^ad. What right recent news liave you of import so unkind as 
warrants all this gloominess.and causes all these tears? 'Tis not yon 
think that I'm unkind ? 

A. No ! no ! I know you do not think so. (Sobs.) 

Mc. What can it be. I sometimes think I must mistake to 
think I've got my long lost Allio back. Where once were smiles 
and gay "flippant talk, I now meet sobs and sad complainings. 

A. M^^ — my own Ph'lip, I sometimes doubt myself, s » unlike 
am I to what I used to be. 

Mc. I see no reason now why this ditference should be. ] 
liattered m3'self — a hem — that 'cwere enough to lend an occasions! 
smile to your pretty facj to have stumbled unto unworthy me once 
more. And I bethink me of times right often, when amidst the 
roughing of camp life in the West, your p-.-nsive smiles broke in- 
to light ])cals of rippling laughter, and made my heart so glad that 
I could e'en a most cry out my thanks to Ofod that m}' angel Allie 
was restored to me, to rest upon my bosom so — (embraces her,) 
and cheer m}' lonely' life. 

A. (Sobs through smiles.) Yes, yes, I was someti -les then 
quite happ3'. 

Mc. Well, it sti-ikes rae strange indeed, that if you could then 
rejoice and laugh again over the meeting with poor, unworthy 
Phil, who had himself grown much unseemly cross and i-ough, 
that to find once more your precious child, so lythe and bi-ight 
they sa\', would — would — ha, ha, (with a forced laugh,) make 
you laugh outright with excessive jo}', would cheer the world 
with the gaiei}' of 3^our spirits. Ah, my sweet pet, is it not so. 
I pra}' thee smile. 

. (Moving away from him.) Oh bush. My Philip, hush. 
My dear, 3'ou almost make me vexed. Perhaps I ma}' grow 
lighter i^r he rt, or at lea.<t not so despondent, but now — now — 
iSeries.) 

Mc. There, there, come to my arms and cry it out uj)on my 
breast; you were so wont to lean on. [She complies, and he ca- 
resses her Avith every term of endearmesit.] 

A. There, how silly of me to be such a cliild. I — I think I'm 
growing quite hypochondriac. 

Mc. I hope you feel better and will conti'me to — 

A. Indeed, I'll try, if not for myself for yon and my eliild, 
whom they have been please<l to call Theresa. Phillip, it seems so 
sad, so bad indeed, that I must be denied the pleasure (»f naniing 
my own child. 



72 

Mc. Oh, my darling, j'ou're almost selfisli ; I'm sure 'tis often 
(lone. How given are mothers to bestowing the favor on some es- 
teemed friend or kinsman of giving the baby a name. 

A. Yes, but ours was a circum.-itance quite different, the favor 
vvas not left me to bestow — not only the naming or saying who 
should name, but my child, as well, was stolen — torn Irom me and 
all thrust upon strangers. 

Mc. How wont you are to complain. I'm sure, my dear, 'tis a 
beautiful name they gave her — Theresa — or Tracy as thej-'ve cui*- 
tailed it. Why, it suits her well, and quite easy 'tis to say. And 
A Hie, my dear, a hallowed name it is to me. 

A. And why? 

Mc. Because it was my mother's name. 

A. It was ! It was, m}- Phillip ! 

Mc. Aye, indeed it was, and a sweeter naine, the sound of 
which, could not be breathed upon my ear. 

A. Can this be true ! 

Mc. True it is. And even now, when to the past ni}' mind re- 
verts, and on my childhood days I muse, methinks, to my mother, 
I hear my father call, "Theresa, Theresa, I think — I think our 
Phillip needs a — needs a — " "Needs a what, ' says she. Sajs he, 
''I think our Phillip needs a — needs a — needs a thrashing." Ha, 
ha, ha my dear, I pray 3'ou laugh. 

A.. Oh ! how glad I am to know this. 

Mc. Yes, indeed, and had angels wafted a name from Heaven, 
and whispered it low in its mother's ears, our child could not have 
had a name that suited me as well. 

A. And as I live but to please you, my own Phillip, T am glad 
our child is named Theresa. But I must say it was really stupid 
of you not to have told me this before. 

Mc. Well, my dear, I could not tell 3'ou unless I was where 
you were, could I? And when I am in your presence I can not 
even think of my mother, you are such an enchantress. And 
DOW my own darling, I beg of you consider that all your troubles 
are as phantom like as this one of Tracy's name, and let your smiles 
make glad my heart once more. 

A. I'll try. But what think you of this Fritz they say our 
Tracy's engaged to ? 

Mc. Rather what I know — that is, that he is honest and good of 
heart; he's entertaining and not homely to look upon; and most of 
all he loves Tracy and Tracy loves him, and 1113^ consent was given 
them as soon as I knew she was mine to ask for. 

Fritz. (Who comes in in time to hear AUie's query.) Mine 



73 

Got, I youst vish dot man vas been President s »me tay for sayin 
dot sonietinp^s, dot vas going to been my fatter-in-laws. 

A. Yes, but is it not very objectionable tbat be is so Dutch? 

F. (Aside.) Ditch ! Ditch ! Veil I guess I vas don't never 
been crazy as some ped pugs, and ticks and lunaticks. 

Mc. No, that is nothing. As good people as live in this coun- 
try are of Gei-nian origin. And for his energy in her behalf in res- 
cuing Miss Harriett Simmons, or rather the second Mrs. Branch, 
though the shock of that affiiir caused her death, she left him 
the bulk of the famous fifty thousand. 

A. Ah well, remembering what trouble my father's interfering 
caused me, since Fritz is a good man I shall not object. (Fritz 
listens intently, and as Allie finishes the sentence rushes to her.) 

F. I tank madam. I was your most obedient servant, I vas 
alway been good to Tracy, and vas alway been good to her still. 

A. Take her Fritz, 3'uu have our consent. Let her will alway« 
be your pleasure. 

Mc. And on both your heads rests a father's and mother's bles- 
sing. (They go out.) 

F. Oh mine Got, vat vash home mitout a mutter-in- law. 

T. (Calling outside.) Fritzie-e-e. 

F. Hil de la hoohe-e-e. 

T. Fritzie-e-e. 

F. Come to me-e-e. 

T. (Entering.) Weil, here I be-e-. (They run into each others 
arms and kiss.) 

T. (Sings.) 

Kiss me again honey, 

O'er and o'er, 
Your lips are so sweet honey, 
Kiss me some more. [They kiss again.] 

F. There, dot vas a regular breath taker, 

T. Say Fritz, did you ask for me ? 

F. No. 

T. Oh, 30U skeery goose! 

F. Nine, they give you to me mithout asking. 

T. And it's all settled ? 

F. Yah. 

T. Oh dear, how delightful. (They do some song and dance 
business, until hearing footsteps they hastily retire, and Cleo 
comes hurriedl}^ into the room much excited.) 

C. Tracy ! Tracy ! F^ritz ! Fritz ! Where are you?— here— • 
quick. (Fritz and Tracy come slowly in from opposite directions.) 



74 

Where is Col. Branch? Was he .i'>' '.«,M't^», but Jii^t this moment ? 
Ob d-;..', \\o'.\ biiockino-i 

F. Mry. 0:i!braith, vat's dot you ^ay ? Shocking, dot CoL 
Branch vas here in your house b'.;c ju-^t, di.sh minute. " D.)n't you 
kno\v -'cA. BiMiiich vaa i;-oing to been • iv grtuidpu. Yhaw, ybaw. 
[La,:.-..] 

(J. J Oil 're not a trrand-son that he'd boast of. 

T .^-^ut really, auntCleo, what i: — ii--i>rand papa — ha, ha, how 
f'ln riy — what if Col. Branch was iiei*e'.' And tell me, do, why are 
your,* >xcit-el? The honorable gem leman in question ?^'rt,9 here, 
but I saw hin-i sometime ago muurit i;i.^ mn'se and gallop out of the 
lawn. 

F. I'ifc v;,,ri"t nodings. Be vas jast always lide like some cy- 

Cloiit^r . 

< '. r.-.ow 'r.-:jg since ? There must be some mi>take! It cannot 
be! 

y. ''to th--.'e isn't, auntie. What cannot bo? 
V j.^ere vas no mistookens ab'H'.t dot man going to been my 
^nii.■-^. Hey, Tracy? 

* *. Liiiten here. This has just been I'cceived from View Mont. 
[Vi-::ih note] 

View IMoiXt, 1 ! A. M. 

in. }, M"t*S. ^.lAIiBRAfTH: 

l':d. Braiii-h — Master Rostand, hut just this niinute died. He 
caijir ^Tdlophig up the avenue like a luad-man, bounded from the sad- 
dle, anil scarcely had lie time to get into the room and throw himself ou 
to hi?, 'ouch, v/hen hastening to him, he }>Tasped me violently by the 
han I, r.n'1 idmost inaudibly— his voice being so nearly gone— his.sed in 
my e?-:*, •'T':.dl Allie to come close ray eye.s!" And 'twas but said and 
he vvc-;,^ ilead. Y^^ur anxious servant, ' Paul. 

P. 8. On examination his nether garments next his throat are 
saruiVoTEd v/i[h blood, and I disced vered a ismall, clean cut in the lower 
pan o;' ais Jieck, frnm which the blood still flows. In hi.s vest pock- 
et i- a jaiiill pen knife, the blade of whtch is staiixed with blood. Come 

(]U).->'t. • P. 

!'■„ /.. I - -u' hear (^f the like? Can ne have committed suicide? 
Oh :r:.r, l-w dreadful! 

F. Dot '-\i-s too pad. Nov/ I don't agoin' to had any some 
gr;:,r..;:;us. 

T. Ji'i ■.h-eadful, dreadful. Bur, then, Fritz think, we'll be some 
oft;- rr.'^f raourners. My! v7on'i I look su.r)erb :n crape? 

< ■. Why Tracy ! 

T •'r::i':":js, Til look so demure and dignified. 

F. A^d I'll have som.e cz^aps made on my hat for a liat j>and, 
yoi;-: /ike y: ur tress dat it vas sometir.gs a piece of, and I rite mit 



75 

3^011, Trac}', and folks vili :--:r* :; tore goe,< te two orpliat^. Vaaw, 
vhiiw. 

C. Hush Fi-itz, fur h;';:, -. Trafj. your conduct is shaci?ful. 

T. Ha, ha, what's iho rr-r tor us toilet on we're ^-.frry Lofe be- 
fore you when yon kno.- ■•■■ a'-o not. Just wait for the funeral, 
tlie anguish I shall iaii- w'l be siicli as would rjii.f.o rr !l>rone»j 
weep. 

C Think of^yoiir nia.iil9ia,Col. Braiich i.s your mama's father. 

T. That s all right. .N(y v mamawcan live at home i?) j.eace: 
thai old Jirn«on weed's '^vi dcwn. Ha, ha. 

V. If te lives at View Mr-f^t vould ve live at to cotta;;e i^.-aiii? 

T No indeed, that^ b . .i-!y too small an estaMiyh'r.eni: for 
the ladj^— Mrs. Fritz — l^y -• ing to be. We'll live at View Muur»t 
and mama can live with us.;{rd at the army with pap.t. 

F. Dot vas a purty ^•c^^,i^Tay. 

C. I do think you- ... . ally heartless to t})irilr s^, liult- <»f 
this trai^edy. 

T. Aunt Cleo. were 'i < .nes to ij^rieve — go tell man.tri/Ji', 

F. (Aside to Cl-o.; \ . : liaf to be sorry as you i(>. Je C<^l- 

onel. You remember l"-w yc:: comes by Tracy, ha, ha. Tell m^- 
mutter and fatter tere t« * ( ■- ,r. (Mc. and Allie come in.; 

C. (With a low bow.) Au, Major I am delighted to s<-e you. 

Mc. 'Tis most pieasai-t tc : sear you say so, I assure you. And 
that I see you is oid^ I-.— -, p'eiisure to me than that I see y(»u so 
well and looking so ver\ v. c . 

C. Oh thanks, most ;, ■ . ' Slajor. (In the mcanlime she ban 
walked to Allia^and put I i i -.■.•in around her) And iii}' dear, how 
are you by this time? K r r . her.) Indeed I truRt that rhe sun- 
light of brighter days v-i I i:i-- hack to your sweet face t->f smiles 
it was once most wont to •..,: v 

A. Perhaps'. 

C. And I would uiy ; ;, . :. .•.ere ever my ])rivilege to bring to 
you such tiding? that, il titv caused you not to smile, 'twould be 
such as would make y •' i ' ':.rt to throb with peaceful joy and 
sweetest satisfaction. 

A. It can't always i c - laough. I beg pardon that I thus 
anticipate what you are goi:!^' lu say. 

C. Then you have hviwfV! 

A. I have heard nothiiig; ijut I apprehend your kmd wishes, 
that you might always 1 . a b.'ur^r of welcome tidings, were but a 
prelude to something y< j ct.ir/k my heart inight ache at. I pray 
you then, my friend, pricecd. The pursued beast of the jungle 
wild, may flinch and beih-w at the piercing of his flesh by the first 



71) 

few shafU^^ his assailants' hurl, but benumbed awd paralizcd by 
the agOD}' of a thousand stings he stands resigned and trembles 
not and scarce would move to evade a final thrust though 'twould 
deeper cut than any. 

C. True,perhaps, but I am indeed a most unfortunate victim of 
cruel fate to have it made m^^ duty to pour sad news into ears I 
fain would only whisper soft, in sweet tender words of cheer. 

Mc. I know my wife as well as I af)preciate the goodness of 
5'our heart, but 

A. What is this dire calamity. 

C Well, then, I have here iiews direct from View Mont, which 
says, your father — the Colonel is — not well — -that is, he's dead. 

Mc. So ? 

C. His dying message was to you. Allie, a weird but tender re- 
quest. It was to come and close his eyes. 

A. So soon. 

Mc. So soon, my dear ? 

C. So sioon? l>ear me, was he not three score years and ten? 

F. Nine, dot old man vas not dead mit infanticide. 

A. True indeed, and it I did take from him his life I took 
but trash, when it was less than nothing, and sent him body 
and soul together. Not in the bloom of youth, to blast his life, 
scatter his mind to the four winds and 'eave him so to wander 
like some soulless thing, disconsolate, neither dead nor living. 

F. Yhaw ! Yhaw ! Yhaw ! (Laughs Fiitz boisterously, who 
has been sitting apart with Tracy on his knee inaudibly playing 
William Matrimmeltoe. C. A. and Mc. talks apart.) 

T. Let's play head acher, eye weaker and so on. 

F. Vat vos dot. 

T. Why head acher and eye winker and so on, don't you know? 

F. Nine I don't know. 1 can vink my CN'e dot vay, (winks) 
but I don't got some headaches. I don't had enough vat puts 
pile in ter stomachs. 

T. Well I'll show you how to play. 

F. All right. You play headacher, and I play vink my eyes, 

T. (Impatiently.) No, no. you don't understand. 

F. How ten. I know vat you tries to foolish mit me. You. 
vant to git me vink me eye too you dot vay and ten you git mads 
and put a headache on me, nine ? 

T. Oh no. See here I'll show you. Hold right stil^ 
[Touches with her finger, forehead, right eye. left eye, nose, 
mouth, chin, throat.] Headacher, eye winker, To n tinker, nose 



77 

stopper, TAOuth eater, chin joi3ber, giillj, gully, gully. [Tieklivig 
him under the chin.] 

F. [Laughs.] Yash d )t it. 

T. [Laughing.] Yes 

F. Xou' let me do you dot vay. [They continue this playing 
awhile and go off the stage playing. 

A. I was as happy once. [Pointing to Tracy.] Ah, Philip. 

Me. Yes, my dear. 

Fly. [entering.] Awe ladies and Major, [bowing], I ope 1 
don't intwood. 

C. Came in Mr. Flyburger. 

Fly. It' you all please and excuse me awe — I have some partic- 
ular business, awe, in coming. Col Branch 

C. We know. 

F\y. I beg your pawdon, awe, you know the sowoful pawt, but 
not the pleasant pawt. 

C. What news have you ; let's hear it, if 'tis pleasant. 

Fly. Well, awe. not to tax your patience, awe, I will say — a^^ 
once since Col. Branch's death it has come to light that he has, and 
has had all the time, the evidence to establish the fact, without 'a 
doubt, t'nat this Mr. Fritz here, who is to marry Tracy, is none 
other than the missing Count, this lady's brother, for whom my 
3.1aster HerrGeopper is in search. 

A. How came you to know this ? 

Fly. Awe, excuse me yes, awe, I am the beawer of good news. 
1 would not have 3^011 question me as to how I gained this infor- 
mation, or what were Col. Branch's object in retaining the desired 
information. But I beg you that you will have Mr. Fritz called 
immediately, that I may question him further, and ascertain tht^ 
information that I want, and hasten home, awe, to get the re- 
ward. [Enters Tom and L^ncle Paul, quite feeble. Salutations 
exchange.] 

Tom G. Uncle Paul has something he wishes to say to this 
company. 

A. Uncle Paul proceed, I am impatient. 

C. Y'es, Uncle Paul, we'll hear you with great pleasure. 

P. Well, I hope then, that in saying what I do, you will none 
of you think I say it with the least disrespect for my late masters. 
For though he liad his shortcomings, the comings of all on us 
are none too long. I tell it for two reasons. Firstly. My Mas- 
ter said I should tell it, and secondly, it will do no harm to tell it. 
Well, the Colonel has always known that Fritz was the only son 
of a wealthy German Count, and I knew it too. As, also, we 



78 

both knew Miss Cleo was his daui^liter. In keeping this all a 
Keeret, had he have married Cieo, which he would have don^, 
« ould he have made known that she was white without imph'cating 
him!*e]f in the purloining of the child — he hoped to have the estate 
<d* her father settled on her when the Count, her lather, died. But 
l}eing missed of this, the sou being usually made the heir, his next at- 
tention was given to Fritz, who he learned in a correspondence ho 
had with a Iriend ot his, the U. S Consul of Bavaria was the son 
and heir. He intended once to tr^^ to establish the impression that 
Tracy was the fruit of a secret marriage between Fritz and Allie ; 
keep Allie c nfined in a mad house, and put Fritz where he'd not be 
M) inconvenient. But this plan became itnpracticable if not impos- 
sible. His last scheme was to have Tracy marry Fritz, and send 
Fritz, as he said, to Dutch heaven ; have himself made Tracy's guar- 
dian, and, as he also said, go down to a ripe old age, in a finecoach- 
:*nd-four. But it seem?^ he gave it all up, for it is evident he com- 
mitted suicide. 

A. Will night ne'er grow so dark it cannot darker grow ! Ah, my 
jn^ther, was there no fiend mongst hell's infernal throng that thou 
Slightest mated with and found a spirit less in conflict with thy sweet 
angel nature ! [To P.] Is there more of this old man, of him who 
had shortcomings? [Laughs wildly.] 

C. Left he no written evidences, no papers, no documents of any 
kind — no Bible, perhaps, with births recorded, will clearly show, and 
<}ui6k, that Fritz indeed is my brother — my own brother? 

P. He did, Miss Cleo — this packet, (presents it) containing all that 
he had in black and white relative to the case in question — the letters 
from the Foreign Consul together with a copy of Fritzs birth as 
(^ount Frederick's .son ; also a minature deguereotype taken with 
old Koehler the Count's old reliable servant, he said I should put 
into your hands. 

Ply. Awe, what bettaw evidence could one desiaw? [At this 
juncture Tracy bursts into the conservatory laughing gaily, and 
followed closely by Fritz with a watering pot of water in his hand. 
As he enters the room he handles the pot so that the sprinkler sprays 
w^ater on the guests, who try by dodging to escape the wetting, 
Plyburger especially.] 

C. Oh, Fritz! Fritz! Uncle Paul has such delightful news to 
tell you ! 

F. Vat's dot? 

C. He has undisputable evidence that you are my own brother. 

F) Veil, vat of dot, done I been always saying sister dis and sis- 
ter dot? 



79 

C. Yes, butyt>u ate my sv.re enough brother J 

F. Yhaw ; va8 dot 80 ? 

V. Il is, irjdeed, sir. (?]xit Paul.) 

F. Yaw, yaw, Gieo ; vile ve vas mit Tracy liv^es in to coUago 
make believe sisters and hrotterB — done ve been tries hardtto make 
peebel link a lie dot vas te truth. Gleo, youst let me skveeze you 
mit a brother's skveeze. [Embraces her. As he sits the potdowii, 
as if by accident, hej^ours water down Fly's back, he stooped over 
talking inaudibly to Tracy. Fly jumps up and makes becomini;- 
ado about it.] 

Fly. (With an attempt to seem not out of humor.) Dear Mis- 
taw Fwit:^, awe, that was a cold weception, awe, ha, ha. 

F. I youst tinks you receives a cold from dot. 

Fly. (Bowintr low.) 1, awe, beg pawdon, ladies, gentlemen, awe 
I have to make my bow. to say to you, awe, I can't wemain wit'i 
you longer. (Puts his hat on, in which Frits had poured a litt!<^ 
water, throwing the same ever his face as he places it on his head.) 
Awe, tills is vewy disagweeable. Fawwell,awe. [pointin^r to Frits] 
Behold the missing — the long sought* f.-r Count. Adieu, aw re- 
vawr, (with attempted dignity) I go to my weward. 

F. Vat vas manesuns laid up in heaven. (Fires a pistol at 
Fiy who tumblts out of the room.) 

G. Weil, Frits, in behalf of your friends, and — with pleasure, 
— relacives, I contrratulate you on your good fortune. Y'ou arc- 
i Immensely wealthy, and your title of Count came not single- 
handed ,.,^ 

T. Oh, Frits, Frits are j^ou a real live Count? Oh, dear, I'm 
so glad I got in love with you — I thought you was something be- 
sides just a dutch man. 

F. Yah, yah, T vas purty glad of te moneys, and, [to Mc and 
A] Major and Mrs. McGregor, 1 vas glat you said I should g< t 
your child vile you tought I was youst poor Frits. But after all. 
wealth vas youst an urnprella dat vould keep out te rain, but it 
voLild keep out te sunshine do; and vile it vas purty convenient 
sometimes ven tings vas purty much cloudy, it vas youst as un- 
handy and in de vay ven you don't needs him; and you vas alvay.'^ 
afraid somebodies vas tryin' to shteel him, and he vas sure to \n- 
shtole, and ven he vas stole, your monies and your umbrella va.-; 
just like anypody else's. You done been able to identify tern and 
proves him in court. Bur. I vas glad you know I vas of an old fami- 
las and goot. I game to this country to evade being pressed into 
te landvehr, in which every German boy has to serve three years. 

T. And now you arc a sure enough, big, live meat Count? 



80 

F. Yes, i vas a Gount, and you vas a whole county, mit a court 
lioiises and jails ; and I vas goin to hold court in your court house 
f>very days, ound you can lock my heart up in your jail and lo.se to 
kevB forever. 

T. Oh, that's just heart bursting ecstacy! But say, Fritz, the 
woman isn't a county, she's a Countess. 

F. Yah ; you vas goin to been two counties — dree counties — 
whole shtate ot counties — and some day, listen, ven ve got some 
1 eerie poys, I Been te old governor. 

T. And you'll be a Count with a big mustache, and I'll be a 
r'ouutess — so grand and tremendous — the very earth shall resound 
with my majestic tread. Won't I look just toj killing? [Struts up 
the stage,] 

F. Me, too ! Me, too ! [Starts after her. They promeuade a 
'•ircle and come back to center of the stage.] 
T. Yes; but say, Fritz, that's iu Germany. 
F. Yaw. 

T. They don't have Counts and Countesses in this country. 
F. Veil, in (7ermaiiy we -been Count Frederick and CountOH^ 
Theresa. 
, T. But here? 
F. 

Here in tish country, te land of te free. 
And te purtiest, shveet girl dot ever I see, 

(Puts his arm around Tracy.) 
Where all mans vas sovereign, if he vas Pres'dent st)ine tay — 
Te land of brave boys, of te Blue and te Grayv— -* 

We vas simply Tracy and Fritz in America. 

(CERTAIN.) 



DISPOSITION OF CHARACTERB. 
Mc. and Allle, Fritz and Tracy, Tora and Cleo. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 211 908 « 



